Himerus and Eros
by Celtic Girl08
Summary: She tells herself it was just a random rebound lay. But she knows the truth: At some point that night, what she had with him changed into something more. Way more. It became about them. But will it stay that way? AU Brooke-centric. M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey, Chandler here. Yep, I'm posting another story, even though my first one, Don't Blink, is still in progress (To anyone who would like a long Bl fic, check that one!). I promise I'll be updating soon, but this story has been bouncing around in my head for a few weeks now and last night it made it's entire escape into my laptop in one run. I have a plan for this story, so if you would like me to write more, review and tell me so!_

_**Description**: She tells herself it was just a random rebound lay. But she knows the truth: At some point that night what she had with him changed into something more. Way more. It became about them. AU Brooke-centric. BC, BL, LP, BJ, JP, RC, NH. Summary inside._

_**Background/Summary:** Brooke, Peyton, and Rachel are best friends who live in NYC, two years out of high school. Brooke is heading C/B, a huge and growing fashion line, which provides plenty of income. That's really all you need to know as of right now, hopefully the story will unfold well enough to prove a summary unnecessary. ;)_

_M-rated for a reason._

_**Disclaimer:** I am in no way affiliated with or the owner of One Tree Hill or the CW. I wish I were though._

_**Title:** Himerus and Eros, by The Spill Canvas. Don't own them either. :(_

* * *

The aura of the hours before a party was always strange: there's excitement, anticipation. A night of fun, friends, hooking up and hanging out. But there was also the same tired resignation to it all. They knew the scene, the parties in New York were always the same. A night of going through the motions, the same old thing until you can't feel it anymore. No one ever really realized this mixed atmosphere before a night out—They consciously felt the excitement and unconsciously knew that it would be the same.

That didn't mean they weren't looking forward to tonight.

Brooke Davis smiled as she turned on her straightening iron and reached for the mascara. Tonight was one of those nights, another New York party, and she and her two best friends, Rachel Gatina and Peyton Sawyer, would be there until early morning. There would be drinks of every kind possible, and as many drinking games to go along with them, good music and better guys.

She was in her element.

Brooke thought of how Rachel had excitedly called them to gush about the invitations to the party. _"Yeah, there's a guy I met over here that can get us in, you feel like it?" _she had asked casually. And yes, that was bored, cool Rachel's definition of gushing. Brooke and Peyton, who had been having lunch together at the time, had eagerly accepted.

The three had been friends since high school, all the way back in Charlotte, North Carolina. Brooke had started a small fashion line near the end of their senior year, and just a month after she graduated she had received an offer to showcase her line in Macy's, another invitation she had readily accepted. Without a doubt in her mind, she had hopped on a plane, flown to New York, met with the Macy's execs, and decided this was her life. She had rented an apartment that week.

Two weeks later, Peyton moved up, and then Rachel came. They had lived together since high school, almost two years, in a three-bedroom apartment that was primarily funded by her fashion empire, Clothes over Bros, owned by fiery twenty year old Brooke Davis. Rachel soon got a job modeling for the company, but Peyton was still trying to pursue something with music.

And Brooke's success hadn't stopped there. On a personal side, she had met Chase Adams and they had instantly fallen for each other. They had been dating for four months now, and he was going to meet her at the party tonight.

"_Oh, poor Brooke's got a leash,"_Rachel and Peyton had teased good-naturedly when they heard Chase was coming. As she dabbed on some dark blue eye shadow, Brooke felt a surge of love for her closest friends.

"B. Davis!" came Peyton's loud, impatient shout, and the sudden surge of love vanished. Brooke rolled her eyes, knowing that she was pushing it, that they were going to be later than they had planned. A second later, the blonde bounded into the room, planting her hands on her hips. She had long, dark skinny jeans on, with a green tanktop that matched her eyes and her mom's vintage leather jacket. That was Peyton, always eclectic and badass. "You ready yet?" She took in Brooke, whose hair was only half straightened, and imagined the answer. _No._

"Just a second, calm down." Brooke's tone was equally impatient. You couldn't rush things like this. She ran the iron over her hair quickly, then looked appraisingly in the mirror. After a second of considering, she ran a hand through her long brown locks, pushing them back and mussing it slightly. "How's this?" she asked, turning to Peyton for her friend's opinion. She wore a red, low-cut halter top, one that exposed her shoulders and upper back, paired with a mini skirt. Both were exclusively C/B.

"You look great. Hair's sexy, Chase won't be able to keep his hands off you." Peyton's answer was monotone, like she had been over this too many times. Checking her phone, she rolled her eyes to Brooke and smiled to let the brunette know that she was joking. "Can we go now? Rachel's out in the car, already pissed."

"Fine, let's go!"

* * *

The party started at nine, and despite Brooke's slowness, they arrived a few minutes after ten thirty. Chase was standing outside, his brown hair ruffled by the light October wind. He grinned widely as the girls screeched to a halt in front of him.

"It's about time you got here!" he laughed, going to embrace Brooke as she climbed out of the car. He smiled at the other two, and they stuck their tongues out.

Brooke kissed him lightly. "Really?" she mocked, "And how long have you been here?" He shrugged and grinned.

"All of about thirty seconds. C'mon, I'll get you a drink." Chase wore a deep red shirt, complimenting Brooke's. She loved that they went together so well: The girl and her boyfriend.

The party was in a popular club, with a bar, stage and dance floor downstairs and a lounge upstairs. The building itself was inconspicuous looking enough, just a small warehouse, with bare walls and an exposed ceiling. Perfect for them.

Brooke, Peyton, and Rachel entered together, with Chase to the left and slightly behind Brooke. The three striking girls entered shoulder to shoulder, attracting many male stares. Chase stepped forward and put an arm around Brooke's shoulder, but she didn't know whether he was marking his territory or showing her off. She rolled her eyes and played along, kissing him on the cheek.

"What's the agenda for tonight?" Rachel asked, messing up her hair slightly and looking around. She had on a tight, strapless top paired with a miniskirt like Brooke's and high heels. Together, they instinctively headed for a bar. Chase stopped to talk to someone he knew.

Peyton smirked. "You mean _tonight_, or right now? Because I think the former is really up to whatever guy you choose." Brooke laughed and Rachel rolled her eyes toward the blonde.

"How about we just start with our usual?" Brooke suggested, shaking her head with a smile. "Then, the night will take us wherever. Deal?" Her friends nodded, even though that was what they always did anyways.

They sidestepped a tall, blonde guy, then Rachel addressed the bartender. "Hey, we'll have three vodkas." She nodded at him, then turned back to her friends.

"Can I see your IDs?" came his voice from behind them. Rachel turned, looking irritated at being interrupted. She rolled her eyes and handed him the piece of plastic, and Brooke and Peyton did the same.

"Ok," he said within seconds, "Thank you Kimberly, Carly, and Chelsea." He handed their fake ID's back, and they took them wordlessly.

Rachel turned and drowned the drink he had set on the bar. "C'mon, skanks!" She grinned, relishing the burn of the alcohol in her throat. Brooke and Peyton laughed and followed suit, having no problem with the drinks. The three wove deeper into the club, with Brooke grabbing Chase along the way.

* * *

The night became a blur, a whirlwind of color and sound and life. The music blasted, bodies massed together in a mess of bodies on the dance floor, drinks flowed. People talked and laughed and shouted and screamed. Brooke could feel the hot, humid atmosphere; feel her latest drink drying on her lips.

Suddenly, Chase's arms snaked around her waist from behind, and she felt his breath on her neck. "Where've you been, babe? I've been looking for you."

Brooke giggled, swaying in time with the music. She angled her head back so talk to him better. "Oh yeah? And why's that?" She bit her tongue and grinned.

He spun her body to face him. "I wanted to do this." He kissed her lips, pressing against Brooke's body. Her hands found the back of her neck.

Just then, Rachel walked by. "Brooke, you know that turns other guys off to you." She barely glanced at the couple, just trotted by as if nothing had happened. Chase watched her go, laughing.

"Well, that's my plan at least," he said, staring down a blonde guy who had glanced at Brooke's tan, bare legs. Chase turned back to his girlfriend. Brooke smiled and kissed him lightly again. "But hey, babe, you go have fun with Peyton or Rachel. You guys can hang out right now, and I'll get to have you later." His hands settled above her ass, and he joined their lower bodies together meaningfully.

Brooke bit her tongue. "Deal," she promised. She accepted his kiss and hug and went off to find Peyton.

The party wore on, deeper and deeper into the night. Brooke had found Peyton just a few minutes after she left Chase, and they'd been dancing ever since. Once, she caught sight of her boyfriend doing shots with a group of other guys, and she smiled. He was happy, he was having fun. Good. Rachel had joined in with Peyton and Brooke for a few minutes, then gone back to the bar. She was drinking the most out of the three tonight, but it was ok; if none were sober enough to get home, they'd put the car in the club's parking garage and grab a taxi, and then come back for the car tomorrow. No worries tonight, for any of them.

Brooke and Peyton finally dragged themselves out of the mass of dancing bodies, collapsing together on a couch, laughing and cheering. They leaned against each other and watched the party for a few minutes.

Brooke and Peyton had been best friends since the third grade, when Peyton's mother died in a car crash. Brooke, who had been getting her tonsils out at the time, met Peyton at the hospital, comforted her, then gone to Peyton's house after school every day for a month afterwards. They quickly became inseparable. Oftentimes, Peyton would spend the night with Brooke when her dad was away on frequent business trips and when Peyton didn't want to stay with the neighbors back in Charlotte.

High school had been a breeze as well. Brooke had been the party girl, which is how she met Rachel. Every Friday and most Saturdays Brooke could be found at the house of the week, drinking life up. She'd had many one night stands, but in her world, that's what suited her best. Then one night, she'd met Rachel, the new student at Charlotte Central High, introduced her to Peyton, and two became three for the rest of junior year and all of senior year. They were known school wide, with many other good friends.

Peyton pulled out her cell and checked the time. 12:30. "Ugh. Ok, I'm officially on break for a few minutes," she declared, her head lolling on Brooke's shoulder.

"Me too," decided Brooke, looking around. "And what the hell happened to my boyfriend?" she added, laughing. "He's gone!" Brooke searched the bar, but he wasn't there. Peyton just shrugged, saying he was probably somewhere 'out there'. She gestured to the huge group of people in front of them.

Peyton's phone started vibrating, blasting some emo punk song. Brooke rolled her eyes, seeing an unfamiliar number. She knew it had something to do with Peyton's possible new job. "Who the hell calls at 12:30 at night?" she asked incredulously.

Peyton put the phone to her shoulder. "They are in LA, so it's nine there! Now shut up, if this works I can help with the rent."

"_Fine_, blondie," Brooke pouted. "I'll be upstairs in the lounge, if you see Chase or anyone." She got up begrudgingly and Peyton smacked her ass. Brooke jumped and stuck her tongue out at the blonde. She strolled upstairs to the calmer lounge.

It was like a different world once she climbed those stairs. Not only was it slightly quieter upstairs, it was also a few degrees cooler than the heated fever below. There were also less people in here. Brooke grabbed a martini and fell into a chair by the window. She rested her head against the cool glass, relieving her headache. Though she did this all the time, pounding music that all sounded the same got to you after a while.

The window she was sitting by provided a clear view of the street below, and Brooke watched two figures come out. The first, obviously male, took a few steps, then turned back for someone. A girl came out, and he grabbed her and pushed her gently up against the wall, kissing her feverishly. His hands groped all over her body, but she seemed to be playing back just as well, even pushing off the wall a bit to kiss him back. They walked quickly towards a car parked on the street, pausing their makeout session to climb in. Before the car drove off, the guy kept looking around nervously, urging the girl to get in. The girl went around the driver's seat, and it was then that Brooke realized it was Rachel's car.

Not only that: It was Rachel.

And…Chase.

It felt as though her stomach dropped out after someone had punched her. Her best friend. Her boyfriend. What the hell? Brooke was so stunned that she could barely move for a long moment. When she finally did, she immediately got up, the room spinning slightly due to the alcohol. Brooke tried to swallow and couldn't. How could Rachel do this to her? With Chase, the first really great guy Brooke had known since the beginning of high school. And Chase too, this was his fault. She was in utter disbelief. That couldn't have really happened, the two of the three people she loved most in the world. She denied it for a heart beat.

But it happened; the realization that they were both cheating on her hit her hard. And the instant it did, she was furious. Hot tears of anger sprang to her eyes. She knew she shouldn't be reacting this strongly, but the alcohol in her system really strengthened her fury. Brooke stormed downstairs, intending to find Peyton immediately. That whore Rachel. She probably got drunk, and did the closest male thing near her. Chase probably just got bored with waiting for Brooke; that was his style. When things wouldn't go his way, he'd fix them. Dumbass.

"Peyton!" Brooke nearly shouted when she rounded a corner and their couch came into view. "Peyton, Rachel and Chase—" But the blonde girl was nowhere to be found. Brooke instantly whirled, tears coming to her eyes again. "Peyton?" She combed the surrounding area, but to no avail. She had just taken a step towards the bar, intending to ask the bartender, when a voice stopped her.

"Hey, are you looking for that blonde girl, or the redheaded one?" Brooke spun to see who was talking.

He couldn't have been older than twenty, with a young face and long, strong body. He had blonde hair and icy blue eyes, complemented by his dark blue dress shirt. He watched her with concernedly. "Your friends, right? Which one are you looking for, the blonde or the redhead?" he asked.

Brooke was taken aback. She had no idea who this guy was, and she wasn't very concerned with his appearance right now. "The blonde… but how did you know we were friends? Did you see us walk in together?"

The guy laughed. "I think everyone with a Y chromosome saw you walk in together. Are you ok?"

"No, I'm not," she said shortly, biting back tears and looking around. "Do you know what happened to my friend Peyton? The blonde one?"

He pushed himself off the wall, coming towards her. "Yeah, she just left. Looked pretty excited about something. Why, what's wrong?"

Peyton had left, obviously excited about her phone call and not thinking. She must've thought Brooke would get a ride from Rachel. _Yeah, that's not happening, _Brooke said to herself. She was stuck here now. She had given Peyton all her money, at the beginning of the party, holding on to only her cell phone; Brooke couldn't get a cab home. She anxiously tried Peyton's cell. It went straight to voicemail; Peyton had turned it off. Brooke took a deep, shuddering breath, fighting to compose herself. The guy still watched with concerned eyes from a few feet away. "It's nothing," she told him. _Except for the fact that my best friend and my boyfriend are hooking up, my other best friend is unreachable and I'm stranded here at a party on the Upper East Side at one AM._ Brooke almost laughed out loud at how crappy her situation had become in such a short amount of time.

It had to be cosmic energy or something of the sort. Karma. She must've run over Mother Teresa in a past life or something.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Brooke looked toward him blankly. "I need a drink." She might as well make the best of the situation.

"Uh, I don't really know what's going on with you, but considering the state you seem to be in, I don't think that's the best thing for you." He wasn't making fun of her, just being genuine. Brooke rolled her eyes.

"Ok. My best friend and my boyfriend are in his apartment right now, or mine, hooking up behind my back. They just don't know that I know. Meanwhile, my other best friend, who has all my money, just bailed, thinking I'd get a ride from my other aforementioned ex-best friend. In short, because of a miscommunication, I'm stranded here at one AM." She grinned falsely. He stared.

"Scratch that. Drinks on me."

* * *

A few minutes later, Brooke slammed the glass back down onto the bar. "So what's you name?" The alcohol had her words flowing ever so eloquently.

"Lucas Scott." Lucas nursed a glass as well, but barely drank it.

"Brooke Davis," she replied coolly, beckoning to the bartender again.

The man sidled over and poured her another drink. But before he walked away, he leaned against the bar. "You got enough money to pay for all this, girly?"

Brooke froze. No, she actually didn't. She was just about to ask if she could start a tab when Lucas interrupted. "It's on me. She's fine." He nodded to the bartender, signaling him away, and the man walked off grumbling.

Brooke didn't make eye contact with the blue eyes. He didn't have to do something like that; she had already amassed quite a bill. Brooke was almost embarrassed, and he read her mind.

"Don't worry about it. You're down on your luck tonight, and I'm here to help out." He drummed his fingers on the bar, and she finally looked up. "And you don't have to stop drinking if you don't want to just to be polite. I've got enough cash. It'll be fine." Brooke gave him a small smile.

"So how does a twenty year old have enough cash for an apartment in the Gramercy?" he asked, laughing a bit. "I know it's none of my business, but it's pretty damn interesting."

Brooke actually brightened at this. "Have you ever heard of Clothes over Bros?"

Lucas stared blankly, as expected.

"It's a fashion line," she explained. "I design it, and I own it."

"Damn," he exclaimed, surprised. "And I thought being a writer was good work."

"You're a writer?"

Lucas grinned. "Journalist, actually. I live in Miami, just up here for vacation. So is that shirt 'Clothes over Bros?'"

Brooke kinked one eyebrow. "What, are you teasing me?"

"No, no," Lucas said quickly, raising his hands, "I just thought… it's a nice shirt, is all."

The liquor was making her head buzz pleasantly. She finished her third drink and leaned in towards him. "Checking out my shirt. Very nice, Broody." She giggled delightedly, leaning back in her chair again. Lucas raised his eyebrows.

"Broody? What's that?"

"It's you, Broody. Just because ever since I met you, you've only smiled, like, twice."

He studied her for a moment. "And you're not changing your mind?" Brooke shook her head, smiling wide. "Then I guess you'll be Cheery. Just because ever since you started drinking, I've only seen you frown, like, twice." He actually adopted her voice quite well, and it set them both laughing.

Brooke amazingly forgot her present heartbreak over the next half-hour. Lucas was being so sweet and genuine and funny; she focused entirely on him. She supposed the drinks helped, too.

"Ok, my turn," Lucas said a while later. They had both let down their guard and were laughing and talking. "I never… hooked up with someone in a public place." Brooke bit her lip, then took a sip of her drink. Lucas threw his head back, groaning. "Ok, who was it and when," he asked.

Brooke put down her drink. "Just last month, with Cha—" She froze. Chase. In an instant, that pain from a half hour ago that she had somehow pushed to the back of her mind and out of her heart returned, hitting her tenfold. "Nothing. Nevermind." Her tone dropped off, and Brooke fingered the rim of her glass. Lucas's eyes softened, and he put down his drink.

"Hey, if I name you Cheery, you gotta live up to it." Brooke bit her lip, biting back a small smile. "Brooke, it's ok. C'mon, I'll get you another drink." Lucas reached over and fingered her cheek softly.

Without a second thought, Brooke leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

Lucas held the kiss longer than she expected, and for that she was relieved. Brooke didn't want to see the uncomfortable shifting, the awkward silence. She didn't want him to leave. She hadn't meant to do kiss him, it just happened. But it felt right. Instinctual and real.

When Lucas finally pulled away, he kept his head close to hers, eyes closed. He put his hand on her shoulder, and suddenly she wanted more than anything to have him. She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to be with him. He sighed. No one around them seemed to notice the couple suddenly together. The music still pulsed around them, but it felt like a totally different world. Lucas finally addressed her after a long pause.

"Do you need a ride home, Brooke? I can call a cab." Their eyes remained closed, because it felt that neither wanted to see the other.

"I don't want to go home, Luke."

"What do you want, then?" His question wasn't sharp or irritated. It was more… genuine and caring.

She took a deep breath, and captured his lips again as an answer.

"I have a hotel room," he murmured into her ear. Brooke nodded.

* * *

The world was a blur as Lucas led her through the lobby. She dimly registered him nodding to the desk clerk, then they were alone in the elevator, and her lips somehow found his. Her mostly bare back was pressed up against mirror on the wall, the cold metal hitting her hot, flushed skin and making her gasp. Brooke's hands roamed freely, and she and Lucas both prayed that no one would enter the elevator. His hands came up to either side of her neck and cheeks possessively; the move turned Brooke on even more.

"Where's your room?" she murmured into his mouth as the elevator doors opened. They finally pulled away and somewhat regained their composures.

He held one arm around her to steady Brooke as they walked down the hallway, leading her to room 309. "And here we are," he said softly.

The door Lucas opened led to a large loft-style hotel room, lavishly decorated with leather and mahogany furniture. There was a small bar off the kitchen, complete with crystal bottles, glasses, and an ice bucket. The floor was set slightly lower than the entryway, with steps leading down. Brooke looked around approvingly.

"You said you're a writer?" She had no idea they made this much money.

Lucas laughed as he closed the door behind her. "Journalist, actually, from Miami. I'm up here for vacation."

"Works for me," she shrugged, stepping down into the main room.

Suddenly, his arms encircled her in a hug from behind, and he planted a kiss on her ear, then her neck. "You ok? You seem kind of… absent. Are you still thinking about that dumbass at the party?"

She shrugged his arms off. "You mean my boyfriend, or my best friend? Neither, actually. I was just thinking that I need a few more drinks." But the look in her eyes was far away, like she was lost. Lucas decided not to force it; he smiled graciously.

"Be my guest." He gestured coolly to the bar, taking off his jacket and tossing it over an arm chair. Lucas fell onto the couch.

Brooke threw him a smirk over her shoulder, arching one perfect eyebrow. As she strutted across the room she swayed slightly, no doubt from all the vodka she'd had at the party. After a quick check over her shoulder to see if he was watching, she carefully poured another drink. She threw back the shot without hesitation, then another.

"Rough night?" he asked jokingly, watching from the couch. He leaned back casually, feet up on the coffee table. She turned back with the most suggestive of smirks.

"Not yet. You wanna change that for me, Broody?"

At this, Lucas stood up. "What are you implying?" His tone smoothly challenged her; low and suave. He took a step forward, knowing exactly what she meant.

Brooke crossed the room slowly until they were face to face. "I'm _implying _that I know your game; get some girl drunk, then take advantage of her emotional state. I'm just getting the first part done for you. Sound about right?" She stopped millimeters away from him, looking into Lucas's clear blue eyes. He could feel her hot breath on his neck, and his mouth ran dry but his face revealed nothing.

"I'm a good guy, Brooke," he murmured entrancingly.

She raised one eyebrow. "Would you like to change that too?"

Lucas's lips captured hers in a long, searing kiss. He placed both hands on the sides of her neck in the same possessive, protective way he had earlier. They pressed their bodies closer, touching every inch of skin they could reach and stumbling backwards towards his bedroom. Brooke's tongue begged entry at his lips; he gladly granted access. Their tongues dueled for dominance, and it was unclear who won. Lucas took his hand off her side for a half second as he opened the door behind his back, still kissing quickly and desperately. Brooke steered him to the bed until Lucas felt it behind his knees and he collapsed onto it, with Brooke above him. It was dark in here, save for the single lamp on the bedside table that cast a dim glow over their bodies.

They pulled apart when the need for oxygen became too great. Lucas panted and let his hands fall to the bed, his blue eyes locked with her hazel ones. Brooke straddled him and undid the clasp on her halter, letting it fall away to expose her bare breasts. He smiled at this, then flipped Brooke so that she lay powerless beneath him. He kissed her again, this time his hands moving slightly southward from her neck and face. One by one, she undid the buttons of his shirt, exposing the chiseled chest and abs. She ran her hands over them, eyes closed.

Lucas moved from her lips to her neck, then her collarbone, biting and sucking and kissing her passionately. He continued down, sucking and tweaking each nipple until both were pebbles standing out from her large breasts. She moaned slightly for the first time. He grinned again, delighting in his work as his moved across her flat stomach with strong kisses. Her hand rubbed through his short blond hair, and he watched the muscles in her abdomen clench and unclench again and again.

But when he moved to slide her skirt off, Brooke's hand suddenly stilled his shoulder. "Not yet," she breathed, and pulled him back down onto the bed. She straddled his lap again, watching him with satisfaction for a moment as he laid beneath her. Then she pushed her hair back and fell upon his lips. Her naked back arched downwards seductively, her hair was mussed from both his hands and hers, and Brooke's hazel eyes were darkened with lust; he had never been more turned on in his life.

While she was kissing and sucking around his neck, Brooke's hands moved downward towards his pants, where she expertly undid the button. Pulling herself away from his body for a moment, Brooke stood up and slowly peeled the jeans away from his body before sliding her skirt off and climbing onto him again.

Upon seeing her in only her red lace panties, Lucas decided it was time for him to take over. Gritting his teeth to stay in control of his own body, he gently picked her up and laid her on the bed beneath him. It was clear that he was already getting to her.

Brooke's eyes were squeezed shut, and Lucas knew how irritating it must be for her to not have control over her own desires. He smirked at the thought of what he was doing to her: He knew what was going through her mind right now, because the same was going through his. "Lucas," she breathed, vein in her neck pulsing, "I want…need you in me, now."

"Brooke…" he started, unsure. Of course, it had to be this moment his morals returned to him. She was drunk; what was he thinking?

She didn't respond, but she could hear the reluctance in his tone. Brooke slid her hands down over his body and gripped his hard member through the thin fabric of his boxers, and Lucas shuddered at the touch.

It was all the invitation he needed; he fell apart at her fingers. Somehow, she knew exactly what to do to make him melt into a hot puddle of desire and lust and want and need. Need. He needed her, now. Brooke moaned in pleasure when he hooked his thumbs around her lace panties and pulled them down, then discarded his own boxers.

"Lucas, I want to feel you in me…" _God, she was still doing it. _The helpless, desperate moaning had him barely sane. He grabbed a condom from the drawer in the nightstand and opened it with his teeth. With shaking hands, he rolled it on within a matter of seconds. He then positioned himself at her entrance. She was already wet; he rubbed his member along her slick folds until it became too much for him.

Lucas sunk into her with a low groan. A sound came deep from her throat; a moan, raw and animalistic. He paused for a moment, basking in the warm gratification of being inside her. It was then that he decided to give her a taste of her own medicine.

"Damn, you're tight, Brooke Davis. What, Chase afraid to do sleep with you? Or was he just not..._ satisfying_ enough?" He gave her a daring look, biting his tongue in a challenge.

She thrusted upward, taking him by surprise. He squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment, regaining a modicum of control. "Don't say his name," she whispered. Lucas's smile dropped into a look of guilt.

Brooke pushed upwards into him, driving Lucas deeper into her. This time he met her thrust with his own, working into a rhythm, and the angry, hurt look on her face quickly disappeared. She closed her eyes as they moved faster and faster together. All that mattered right now was him; all that she was living for was his body. Each wave of pleasure he drove into her was a drug.

Their bodies were slicked with sweat, wet from the heat of the moment. A moan escaped her lips, and Brooke felt the first stirrings of orgasm gathering in her abdomen. Lucas was nearing the edge too. The speed increased to a fevered tempo. The metronome of sighs metered the symphony of their heavy breathing and drum of skin against skin, the moans creating the background. It was the music they danced to together.

Lucas began murmuring in her ear as he reached his breaking point. "Come with me, pretty girl, let me feel you in your highest moment." His whispered groans were too much for her, and she went over the edge.

Brooke's feminine muscles clenched around him, driving him to orgasm as well. Brooke's body arched upward, pressing against his, while her fingernails raked his back. He bit her shoulder, leaving his mark as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through their bodies.

"God…Lucas…" She panted over and over again, his name falling from her lips in a chant. Lucas moaned deep in his throat, continuing to plunge into her over and over. They rode out their climaxes together, hearts hammering, breaths coming fast and shallow, sweat continuing to bead on their bare skin. Lucas supported himself on one hand and rubbed the back of her thigh with the other, his calloused hand raising goosebumps on the porcelain skin. Her face was contorted in a look of pure bliss, with darkened eyes and a perfect lips.

Lucas pushed a lock of brown hair out of her face. "You're so beautiful. Pretty girl."

He finally pulled away from her, completely spent. He quickly disposed of the condom, then fell back onto the bed, still panting hard. Brooke was already half-asleep under the thin sheets. He looked at her once, then curled under with the brunette. She smiled, eyes closed.

The warmth of Brooke's body lulled Lucas into a dreamlike state as well. He pressed his lips softly to her neck, then her cheek, just long, sloppy kisses as he fell asleep. Lucas inhaled her coconut-vanilla perfume with a contented sigh.

"Not bad, Mr. Scott," she murmured sleepily. She turned and buried her head in his neck. He kissed her again on the cheek, caressing her bare back.

"Don't lie, pretty girl, it's…_unbecoming_," he whispered huskily. His hot breath tickled her ear, making her legs twitch ever so slightly.

Stroking the soft skin of his chest, she said, "Fine." The she put her lips to his ear. "Very, very good, Broody. And I'm hard to please." She laughed faintly, showing gorgeous dimples, then wriggled into a more comfortable position against his body and closed her eyes. Lucas said nothing more, but fell asleep with her.

It wasn't long until the velvet darkness swallowed them both.

The first red streaks of dawn had just splashed across the sky when Brooke woke up. She couldn't appreciate the dark beauty outside, though; her head was pounding as if it was about to burst, her mouth felt like carpet, and the dim light of the main room glared through the doorway, adding to her headache. She covered her face with the pillow and bemoaned her hangover. It was six am. It occurred to her that Brooke hadn't gotten more than three hours of sleep last night, if that, a fact that made her grumble even more. Eventually, the room around her made her realize where she was, what had happened last night, and, most importantly, that Lucas was not in bed with her. She looked towards the lit room beyond.

Curiosity got the better of her. Drawing the sheet around her bare body, Brooke got up and sauntered to the door, pushing it open and poking her head out into the main room.

Lucas stood in the kitchen, pouring orange juice into a glass of ice. On the counter in front of him was a platter of eggs, fruit, bagels, and yogurt, just the thing Brooke hadn't known she was craving. He put the full glass of orange juice on platter and picked it up, turning towards the bedroom. He saw her and looked mildly surprised.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice was gravelly but comforting. He held up the tray. "I had them bring up a bunch of food, I didn't know what you'd want. How're you feeling?" He shrugged, unsure of himself, and Brooke smiled. He was kind of cute, appearing so hesitant and uncertain. This didn't really seem like Lucas's forte, but at the same time, he'd had enough consideration to do all of this for her. His blonde hair stuck up at all angles, and his blue eyes were soft. Lucas wore just a pair of basketball shorts, exposing his lean, tanned body. She grinned again at the sight.

"You took care of me?" she asked, cocking her head. This had never happened before.

He nodded. "Yeah, it was no problem. C'mon, we'll have breakfast in bed." Lucas gestured her back inside the room.

It was still dark in here, but Brooke could see dim outlines of things. Looking around, she saw her clothes scattered on the floor, intermixed with his. She blushed slightly, thinking of the night before. Lucas obviously was too; even in the darkness she could see the color rise in his cheeks as he saw her look around. She turned back with a wink, then jerked her head to the bed.

Lucas sat down, switching on the light. "Uh, so you can just grab whatever, I'm not really that hungry…" He was cut off by her laughter as she took a bagel from the plate. Brooke laid on the other side of the bed. They talked a little as they sat together, but it was nothing consequential.

After they had finished eating, Lucas put the tray on the ground and reclined back on the pillows. Brooke pulled the sheet over him, and Lucas responded by pulling her into his arms.

"I'm really tired, let's just lay here like this for a while. Or forever." She smiled and kissed his shoulder.

But it felt strange, Brooke realized as she drifted off to sleep again. This wasn't the start of a boyfriend-girlfriend sort of relationship. She had hooked up with Lucas last night, nothing more. She buried the feeling that at some point last night, it had become more than a random hookup. The notion was more of a subconsicous thought, and was barely considered before it was pushed deep into the back of her mind.

But why was she still here? Because she was…hungover? Tired? Brooke had no idea. All she knew was that it felt so good to have Lucas put his warm arms around her and keep her close. Lucas had already fallen asleep curled against her body; Brooke was slipping into the recesses of unconsciousness as well when she heard her phone vibrate from the bedside table where she'd thrown it last night. Slipping Lucas's arms off her for a moment, she picked up the phone and pressed a button.

* * *

Lucas woke up what must have been hours later; the sun shined in full through his window, signaling mid-morning.

He instantly felt the change in the atmosphere. Opening his eyes, Lucas sat up and blinked several times, waking up.

Brooke wasn't in his arms, like she had been when they'd fallen asleep. She wasn't even in the bed. He looked at his room, and, not seeing her clothes, clambered out of bed. He didn't know why he felt such a sudden need to see her, but he did. Lucas crossed the room in three quick strides and threw open the door. She wasn't there. Brooke was gone.

He ran a hand through his hair again, wandering back to his bed. He was sitting on the edge, head in his hands, when he saw the note on the nightstand. Lucas grabbed it eagerly and read the entire contents of the short note in an instant.

He fell back onto the bed, utterly crestfallen. The intoxicating scent of her vanilla perfume had suffused his sheets; everywhere, he was reminded of her. He let his arm fall and the note fluttered from his hand onto the floor.

_This was a mistake. Sorry._

_--Brooke_

* * *

_Alright, so does it warrant a second chapter? I have the story planned out, but whether or not I write the rest depends on the feedback I get, so press that button if you want to read more!_

_Oh, and check my other fanfic, Don't Blink, for an alternate, Brucas season six._

_Keep in mind, also, that just because I have another BL fic doesn't mean this will end up BL as well._

_Thanks for reading and hopefully **reviewing**!_


	2. The Best Deceptions

_Here's the next part, and I promise updates wil start coming faster. Same thing for anyone who reads my other story, "Don't Blink." It's started to roll now._

_Anyways, the chapter title belongs to the always great Dashboard Confessional._

_Read and review!_

* * *

She typed the name into the search bar and hit enter. _Down at one AM, up at five, _she thought, finishing her second cup of coffee,_ doing work for a job I got last night. What a life I lead. _Peyton set the cup down and leaned closer to the laptop as the band's MySpace page loaded completely.

Last night, Peyton had gotten a call from the record company she'd sent her résumé to. It had been at just a little past midnight (They were on the west coast, where she was in New York), and the woman on the other end of the line had told her that the New York branch was in need of a new employee. She was to show up on Monday. Peyton had gone immediately home, ecstatic. She had gotten the job she had been wanting for three weeks.

It was midmorning on Saturday, and she had spent the last two hours searching the internet for various unsigned artists that would look good on the label. Peyton was counting on the whole day to herself, Brooke, and Rachel, to listen to the newest music and put a list of great bands together so she could get there on Monday prepared. God, she felt like an excited school girl, but she couldn't help it; this was the job Peyton had pursued for weeks, the perfect way to get into the music industry.

She hadn't seen either Rachel or Brooke since last night, but had no doubt that they would turn up soon. Since Brooke had been together with Chase, all nighters had pretty much become Rachel's mode of operation, but Brooke could occasionally be found coming home in the early morning. Peyton stayed out of that sort of thing mostly. She was more of a DD type of girl. Well, she tried to be.

Just as Peyton was wondering when Brooke might get back so she could show Brooke the list of bands and they could listen to some new music together, Peyton heard the front door in the entryway open. She heard heavy, tired steps shuffling across the tile, in the direction of the bedrooms.

"Brooke?" Peyton called.

After a pause, she heard Brooke's cheery, "Hey, P. Sawyer." The steps were much springier as Brooke turned towards the living room area.

"Hey Brooke, I'm sorry about last night," Peyton started before the girl even got into the room. "I got the call for that job at that label, and I kinda bailed without thinking. I was just checking out some new music for the job. Where were you last night?" Then Brooke came around the corner.

Brooke was beat tired, and it showed. She didn't have much makeup on, and what she did have was slightly smeared. Her hair was messy, though it looked like she had done her best to smooth it in a short amount of time, and her eyes seemed puffy and pink near the edges. The clothes she was wearing, the same ones she had been in last night, were wrinkled.

"What, did Brooke Davis pull another famous all-nighter?" Peyton joked. "Where'd you go?"

Brooke shrugged, giving a small smile that didn't show her dimples. "I met this guy…"

Peyton had been friends with Brooke a long time, and knew her better than a sister. And when Brooke Davis turns up looking like she did after mysteriously disappearing for the whole night and says she met a new guy, you know she and said guy didn't just go out for drinks. Peyton was well aware of this, and instantly put two and two together.

"A guy… what about Chase?"

A little stab of guilt shot through Brooke again, as it had been doing at random intervals all morning. She closed her eyes "He just…"

"Brooke, what's wrong?" The blonde's voice grew stern.

Instead of answering, Brooke shrugged it off, smiling and showing her dimples this time. "Nothing," she said with a laugh. Her smile and dimples were her best techniques when she wanted to convince someone she was ok. Peyton knew this about her too, and didn't take the bait.

"Nice try, Davis," the blonde said, giving Brooke a sad smile, "But the dried mascara tears on your cheeks tell otherwise. What happened?" she demanded. By this time, Peyton had stood up and was walking across their upscale loft toward Brooke curiously and suspiciously.

A deep, long sigh came from Brooke, and for a second Peyton didn't think she was gong to say anything.

"I…" Sigh. "When I went up to the lounge last night I looked out the window and saw Chase kissing someone outside then they got into her car and left," she said this all very fast, without stopping or punctuation. Peyton's eyes opened wide, but Brooke kept talking. "I want downstairs and looked for you but you had gone, and you had my money and I didn't know what to do." Brooke stood totally still in the spot she had been standing in the whole time. Peyton was just shellshocked.

"Brooke—"

"It was Rachel."

Oh no. Oh, no, no, no. "T-the girl that Chase—"

"Yeah."

There was that stabbing feeling in Brooke's chest again, except this time it was raw pain instead of guilt.

Peyton seemed to recover herself. "Oh, Brooke, I'm so sorry. No wonder you feel so bad…" She rushed at her friend in a hug.

_But really, that's not the half of it,_ Brooke thought to herself, gingerly accepting the hug as if she had broken ribs. She didn't breathe a word of it to Peyton, but Brooke couldn't help but think of Lucas. Most of the guilt that was burning her up was because of last night, and more importantly, this morning.

It had been an indescribable feeling, lying there in Lucas's arms as the world outside woke up. For the first time in a long while, she had felt completely at ease, safe, protected. It wasn't love; that much she was sure of, but it was something. It was only them, like time inside that hotel room was stopped, and she loved it. Nothing else had mattered as she'd drifted off to sleep.

Then, of course, the loud vibrations of her cell phone had interrupted her dreamlike state. She had grabbed it quickly, reluctantly squirming out of Lucas's warm, muscular arms. It was a text message, and her heart constricted as she realized who it was from.

**Hey, I'm so so sorry I ducked out last night. I'd had a few drinks, and the music was giving me a headache. I tried looking for you, but finally just decided I had to get out of there. I was at home sleeping the rest of the night.**

**I'll see you at your apartment later today. **

**Love, Chase.**

In that instant, a half dozen feelings came crashing down on her. Pain, anger, fear, betrayal. Chase had the nerve to play it off as if nothing had happened? A shuddering breath escaped her throat. For a second, Brooke had considered calling both him and Rachel, but she had decided against it at the last moment. She was still in Lucas's room, sitting on the edge of his bed. The blonde had gone on sleeping.

Suddenly, hot, rushing guilt had flooded through her. She had just hooked up with Lucas, looking for consolation after her boyfriend had pursued other interests. Brooke had bought drinks with Lucas's money. She'd slept with him, led him on. The blonde boy lying next to her in the bed had taken care of her while she was hungover, ordered room service for her, and all the while Brooke had known deep down that she was going to leave him the second Lucas turned his back. He would wake up in a few hours, maybe, to an empty bed, and realize he had been used for a night. For a rebound. She couldn't be there anymore, she shouldn't be. She should've have left already. That guilt, coupled with everything else she was feeling, was almost a physical pain.

She left him just minutes later, after getting dressed and leaving him the note.

The world had caught up with her, so Brooke had kept running.

* * *

A while later, after all the pain had been rehashed, all the bad things said about Rachel and Chase, all the comforting words of consolation, Brooke came out of the bathroom after a long, hot shower. She found Peyton sitting on her bed, waiting. Brooke sighed internally; her best friend wasn't going to let this one go, no matter how much Brooke wanted to.

"Do you want to talk about this yet?" Peyton's whole music planning had gone out the window; she waited seriously for Brooke, to comfort her.

"Talk about what?"

Peyton rolled her eyes. "You know what, Brooke."

Brooke went to her dresser, searching for her favorite pair of sweats. Today was a recovery day. "Of course I know what. What do you want to discuss about it?" She really, really didn't want to do this right now. Not ever, actually.

"Well," Peyton said, looking a little off-guard, "I—how do you feel about it? What are you going to do, are you going to talk to Chase?"

Brooke slammed the drawer shut. She snapped, "I'm pretty damn sure you can imagine how I feel about it, Peyton. It's not really that difficult, not exactly a mystery sensation to the world."

Brooke was stretched thin, Peyton realized that. She averted her eyes, and Brooke softened. "I'm sorry. I just really don't want to get into this right now." She found the pair of sweats she was looking for and plopped down next to Peyton on the edge of the bed, depleted.

"I'm sorry," Peyton said after pause. "I know you Brooke, so I'll back off for now, but I need you to know that you can come to me with whatever, and I'm here for you, ok? Talk to me when you're ready." She clapped one hand over Brooke's knee and rubbed it comfortingly.

The front door to their apartment opened and slammed shut. Peyton froze, then turned to look at Brooke as if for a confirmation that Brooke had heard it as well. Brooke nodded, and a fire ignited in Peyton's eyes, one reflected by the brunette. Peyton set her jaw and stood up angrily.

They turned the corner of the hallway into the entry, Brooke a step behind Peyton. She was showing some life, and had seemed to have momentarily forgotten the night before. Both girls' faces dropped ten degrees when they saw Rachel at the door.

"Hey, you guys," Rachel said cheerily, but she avoided Brooke's gaze. Peyton's eyes narrowed. "Where were you two last night, I couldn't find you."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Peyton said, as Brooke snorted and turned away. "How was your night, Rachel?" She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms in front of her. Rachel stood in the middle of the room, like she was on a stage and couldn't quite figure how she had gotten there.

"It was good. Sorry I left, I—"

It was Brooke's turn. "Yeah, you are sorry." She stepped forward from where she had been pacing behind Peyton.

"Brooke, what are you talking about?" Rachel tried a laugh, but it was tight and strained: she was lying through her teeth.

"Hmm… I'm talking about that one guy, the one I've been dating now for four months! Oh yeah, Chase." She threw her former friend a simmering glare.

Rachel let a sigh escape her lips. Running a hand through her hair, she turned her gaze to the wall and stared at it for a long while, as if hoping it would provide her an answer to give the other two girls.

When she spoke again, her voice was quiet and defeated. "Look, I'm not in love with him. I wasn't last night, I'm now, I never will be." Rachel raised her head to look Broke in the eye seriously and resolutely. "It's not like I've been lusting after him, and that was my chance. No. I was just… I was drunk, like I've been at a million parties, drinking the drink of the night and searching for the guy of the night. Then Chase came up to the bar; he'd thrown back a few, but he wasn't as drunk as I was. He told me about how he couldn't find you and he just started talking to me.

"He started saying things, telling me sweet things, and I guess all the drinks made him sound better, and it kinda just… escalated from there. Brooke, you have no idea, I feel so bad. I'm so sorry, I just…" She dropped her hands from her sides and turned away, at a loss for words."You have to know that, Brooke, I'm sorry."

Silence stretched between the three. Peyton shot daggers, and Brooke regarded her anxious friend with a blank face. Finally, "That almost makes it feel worse, Rachel."

"Brooke—"

"No. In some weird, twisted way, if you'd had feelings for him, it would have been slightly more justified, even though it still would have been worse than wrong. But the fact that you treated my boyfriend as a random hookup and then had the nerve to lie about it to my face?" She shook her head. "You're a whore, and a joke, and not worth it."

Her eyes flashed. Rachel wasn't one to take these things lying down. She moved towards Brooke, gritting her teeth, but Brooke stood resolutely across the room with a look on her face that _dared _Rachel to come closer.

But this time it was Peyton that stepped forward; she crossed her arms and stood in front of Rachel at the door. "You should leave. I'm pretty sure you've got the cash or connections for a place to stay for tonight. And if not, I'm sure you can always go find someone's boyfriend to crash with."

Anger flared in the fiery redhead's eyes again as she turned to Peyton. "Listen, Peyton, I love you but this doesn't really involve you." Her voice was low and dangerous.

"And now it's time for you to go." Peyton's voice was just as dangerous. She pushed past Rachel, hitting her shoulder and knocking her sideways in the process.

She held open the door, but Rachel barely looked her way. She instead watched Brooke, who had her hands crossed over her chest. Brooke just waited and gave Rachel a glare that spoke more than they had said aloud.

Rachel shook her head. "I'm sorry, Brooke." With a heavy sigh, she went through the door. Peyton slammed it shut before the redhead was two steps out. Brooke closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, more tired than ever.

Peyton leaned against the door, breathing a deep sigh. She hadn't even been directly involved in this, and it was stressing her out. God, think about what Brooke was going through. For some reason, she also suspected there was something else that Brooke wasn't telling her, but she decided not to push it. She opened her eyes to see Brooke leaning against the wall.

"Go get some sleep. I'll wake you up later."

* * *

It turned out that later was actually a few minutes. Peyton opened the door to Brooke's room quietly, to check up. She was ordering dinner early since it was a Saturday night, and wanted to see what Brooke wanted.

She wasn't surprised to see Brooke's bed empty. But in glancing around, Peyton saw that Brooke wasn't even in the room. Her eyes alighted on the door that was opened to the balcony.

Outside, the late April wind lifted Brooke's deep brown hair around her face from where she leaned on the balcony rail. She wasn't doing anything: just looking and watching everything. Peyton approached warily from behind.

"Ok, B. Davis, you know if you cry, I cry. If you laugh, I laugh. If you jump off a balcony…I get a parachute and save your stupid ass. Don't even try it." She jokingly held her hands up in surrender. Brooke smirked and rolled her eyes, beckoning for Peyton to come join her.

She gave the blonde a reluctant smile. "I'm fine, before you ask," she told her. "I just needed to breathe. De-stress."

"You'd be crazy if you didn't," Peyton shrugged. She decided to skip the dinner discussion, and they settled on silence. The two friends just watched New York from their third story balcony. Neither could really figure what was going on in the other's head.

Presently, Peyton's attention was attracted by something on the sidewalk below them. She tapped Brooke on the shoulder. "Hey, check it out." Peyton gestured down.

The sidewalk was relatively empty, and the people below could be clearly seen from the balcony. Peyton pointed out a young man coming up the sidewalk towards their building, and it was easy for Brooke to see the full head of dark brown hair, her favorite black dress shirt that he always wore for her, the bouquet of tulips in Chase's hand.

Brooke's heart squeezed a little.

But that wasn't the only thing Peyton was pointing to. There was another figure, long, slim, model-esque, with red hair. Rachel. She had just come out of their building, and was headed towards Chase. She stopped in front of him, and looked right up into his face for a moment. He said something, pointing to the building with the hand that held the flowers.

The crack of her hand across his face could be heard all the way up on their story. Peyton's eyes went wide, and her face broke into a small grin. Brooke's jaw dropped.

Chase dropped the flowers, reeling backward and putting his hands to his cheek where she had slapped him. He said something inaudible, but Rachel's angry reply was carried all the way up to them.

"You are an _ass._ I cannot believe you, drunken sex? Cheating on her? What the _hell _were you thinking?" She raised her hand threateningly again, and Chase jumped and backed off. "Don't you _dare_ go near Brooke, with your fake flowers and stupid smile and whatever lie is about to come through you teeth. You'd better stay away from all of us."

Chase caught her wrist and said something quietly. Peyton strained over the balcony to hear him, but to no avail. The look on Rachel's face and her next response told the story, though.

"Yeah, I know it's my fault too. I screwed you, I screwed up, I screwed her over, and I feel horrible about all three. But you weren't nearly as drunk as I was, you knew full well what you were doing. And now you have the audacity to go and try to act like nothing happened. I'll say it again: don't you dare go near her, and stay away from Peyton, even. And me…"

A classic, burgundy Mustang rolled slowly by, and the engine drowned out the rest of Rachel's tirade. The two on the balcony saw Chase pick up the flowers and drop them in the nearest garbage can; Brooke let out a sigh of relief. Chase turned back to Rachel.

Without warning, she smacked him again, the satisfying sound floating up towards Brooke and Peyton, giving Brooke a proud and victorious smile. Chase stormed away down the street, rubbing his cheek and Rachel watched him go with a furious expression on her face. After he rounded the corner, they saw her shoulders drop tiredly. The redhead left in the opposite direction a few minutes later.

Both Brooke and Peyton's eyes were still glued to the ground below, and they stayed like that for a long while, taking in the scene they had just witnessed. Finally, Peyton turned to Brooke with a laugh.

Her green eyes danced as she said, "Rachel may be a joke and a whore, but you have to admit: she's pretty fierce and tough as hell when she wants to be. You got give her that."

Brooke bit her tongue reluctantly. Her eyes slipped to the street below once more. "I don't have to give her anything," she decided finally, after a few minutes. "C'mon, let's go back inside, I have a headache."

* * *

"Do you think if we paid extra, the delivery man would pick up some ice cream on his way here?" Peyton flipped slowly through the Yellow Pages, sounding bored. She and Brooke had decided on pizza, and were planning a girl's night in with all the carbs and Pay per View movies they could imagine.

It was late afternoon; dusk flooded their living room and kitchen area as the sun went down. Peyton was leaning against the small wet bar, the one that had run out of alcohol a few days ago and they had neglected to refill. Brooke got up from the stool and crossed the room.

She picked up her phone and fell onto the couch. She barely looked at Peyton. "I don't know. I guess." Her unenthusiastic answer deflated Peyton a little, and the blonde decided to broach the subject that she had been avoiding all day.

"Brooke," she started tentatively, "Who was it that you… hooked up with last night?"

Silence stretched between them for a long while. Brooke still didn't want to deal with this, so she continued flipping through the contacts on her phone. Just as Peyton opened her moth to say something else, Brooke spoke.

"It was no one. No one you would know, at least." Looking up, she smiled and showed Peyton her dimples to assure her. "It doesn't really matter anyways: he's probably leaving by now. You're getting mushroom, right?"

Peyton looked caught off-guard. She glanced down to the phonebook and the cordless in her hand. "Uh, yeah. Anything else? They have soda, right?"

Brooke hopped up. "Yeah," she said, crossing the room. "Call Tony's. The delivery guy there is really cool, I'm sure we could persuade him to stop by the store for some extra cash." She grinned again.

"Alright, good." Peyton got up, ignoring the fact that Brooke had so tactfully deflected Peyton's question; she was simply relieved that Brooke was acting like herself. Tonight would be good for them, for her.

Peyton paused midstep and turned back. "Wait; is he that one that you were flirting with at that party a few weeks ago?" Brooke's eyebrow shot up.

"Technically, no, I was trying to hook him up with you. Indie music guy, guitar player, that sort of thing." Brooke stuck her tongue out. "Tortured, like you. Now go call, I'm hungry."

Peyton rolled her eyes and left the room, going to grab the list of stuff they would need for tonight, as well as her laptop for music. "Tony's. What a generic name for a pizza place," she muttered to herself. Her voice gradually faded, and Brooke went back to the couch to pick up her phone. It was getting darker outside. She pressed a button, and her heart gave a tiny lurch at the sight of her newest contact, the number that she had stolen from his phone and added this morning. She bit her lip, smiling reluctantly for some reason.

**Lucas Scott, (309) 313-0216 **

_So really, I'd love to hear what you think on this story. I sat down the other day and planned everything out in more detail, so chapters should be flowing more quickly. (Yeah, don't hold me to that, but I'll do my best.__)_

_--Celtic (Or Chandler)_

* * *


	3. Friends and Alibis

_Hey everyone! Here's yet another update from yours truly._

_Title: Friends and Alibis_

_The title is from and Escape the Fate song. The lyrics don't really fit, but the title does, so there you go! Disclaimer: I don't own Escape the Fate or "Friends and Alibis."_

_Anyways, read and review please! Lol.  
_

* * *

It was Monday morning, a time to finally return to the world of normalcy after a very not normal weekend. Usually Mondays were hell for Brooke and Peyton in their Manhattan apartment, considering Brooke was usually rushing all over the apartment getting ready and asking Peyton whether or not this design worked or if this model should be at the photoshoot. But today, Peyton had awoken early for her new job and had left as Brooke woke up. A few hours later, feeling strange without her best friend there, Brooke wandered into the bathroom at ten that morning to get ready.

She glanced in the mirror. Save for tired eyes, she looked pretty normal; since the hell that was Friday and Saturday, the weekend had been uneventful enough to allow her to recuperate. The Saturday night movie/food fest with Peyton had helped, too. Carbs and bloody slasher flicks: the best combination, in Brooke's mind, especially when she was feeling the way she had been.

Throwing on a light purple satin shirt, Brooke thought about her day. She had to check into Clothes over Bros and make sure all the models and photo shoots were on schedule, add to the new designs, and meet with the board to discuss the fall line. The one good thing about working through all that was that she was living her dream at 20 years old.

With a contented sigh, Brooke brushed on the remainder of her makeup and put a stray strand of hair back into place. She stepped back to look at herself in the mirror.

Unconsciously, she rubbed her shoulder like she had been doing all weekend. She remembered getting out of the shower early Saturday morning to find a last vestige of the previous night; a ruby red bite mark, courtesy Lucas, on her tan shoulder. For the rest of the day and most of Sunday, she had worn anything that would cover her shoulders, and whenever Peyton wasn't looking Brooke would futilely rub the skin, hoping to make it disappear. While Peyton knew about a hookup, Brooke didn't exactly want to advertise it when she would rather forget about what had happened. Thankfully the mark had disappeared last night, but barely.

Ten o'clock. Time to go live her dream again. As she left the room and once noticed the obvious absence of Peyton on the couch as she made her way into the living room, Brooke was reminded that it was Peyton's first day at her new job. She wondered how it was going as she shut and locked the door.

* * *

"And this, obviously, is the copy room. There's paper up in that cabinet, a recycle bin there, and extra ink cartridges there."

Peyton nodded and tried to pay attention to all the information that was being hurled at her. The girl in front of her looked to be about the same age as her. The girl wore a perky California blonde ponytail, one that accentuated her orangey spray-on tan. The low-cut pink top was so stereotypical cheerleader that even Brooke, who had been queen bee and captain of the cheer team at their high school, would have laughed out loud at this girl. Her earrings were fake diamonds, and the girl, Sabrina, seemed to have the philosophy that quantity of makeup beat out quality.

Already, Peyton intensely disliked her.

Peyton had come in that morning, just after nine. After Peyton had been asking around for a while, Sabrina had finally entered the building's lobby. "Peyton, right?" she had asked. Peyton nodded, and Sabrina said that she would be taking her on a little tour of the building so Peyton would know everything. So far they had seen the mail room, the staff rest area and kitchen, briefly the main office (complete with desks and computers playing different music), and now the copy room. Peyton was getting a bit impatient, and rather annoyed with Sabrina's superior attitude.

However, Sabrina _had _been working there longer; In the interest of her new job, Peyton decided on politeness, something that wasn't exactly her default setting. Never too late to learn, right?

"So," Peyton finally interrupted the steady stream of instructions as they moved down the dull gray hall, away from the copy room. "Where will my desk be?"

Sabrina stopped short. She turned and stared back at Peyton with a mixture of confusion and amusement on her face, looking comically out of place with her bright, bubbly colors in the dull gray hallway.

"Well, I suppose you could use the desk in the copy room." Sabrina gestured towards the room they had just come out of, shrugging, then whirled and continued her tour.

Peyton caught up. "Wait," she said, tapping Sabrina on the shoulder. Sabrina looked irritated as she turned once more. "I'm not sure I really understand. This tour is great, but what about the job? What should I do first? What bands—"

This time it was Sabrina who interrupted. She offered a flashy, toothy patronizing smile. "Well, if I were you I would start by going around to all the executive offices, and seeing if they would like anything, like coffee or copies or if you can do anything for them. Then, check the central office to see if anyone needs anything. And the mail also needs to be delivered from the mail room. If you wait a second, I'll show you where all the executive offices are…" She moved off once more with hardly another glance Peyton's way.

"Ok, now I'm not sure you understand: I'm supposed to be working in music, not errand-running." Peyton moved forward quickly and tugged Sabrina's shoulder just a little. The politeness was ebbing away rather quickly. _Easy come, easy go, _Peyton thought with a touch of irony.

But it seemed better that Peyton's resentment was intensifying, because at that point, Sabrina's voice took on a snide undertone. "I know. Jack told me about you, that we needed a new…errand girl." Her smile fell away into a sneer.

"But the position—"

"—was filled. By me." Then the smile came back sickeningly sweet, like poisoned honey. "But if you want, you can talk to Jack, the head of the branch."

"Jack?" She sensed she wasn't going to win this one: Malibu Barbie was exactly the girl that Peyton had hated to deal with in high school, back in Charlotte. Even Brooke hadn't been like this.

"Yeah, Jack's cool. I slept with him a few weeks back, and nothing's happened." She said it with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if she was simply telling Peyton about a good movie. Peyton was shocked.

"Wait, you _slept _with him?"

"Of course," she responded coolly, as if Peyton was being stupid. "How do you think I got your job in the first place?"

Then she turned and continued down the hallway, leaving Peyton stunned.

* * *

Brooke loved her office. She had designed it herself, just the way she wanted things. It was airy and spacious; a comfortable, relaxed atmosphere dominated, inspired by her loft-style apartment. A modern-style couch sat against one wall, beneath a large plate glass picture window and next to a currently bare mannequin. There was a corner with an architect's desk for sketching, but Brooke's main desk was in the center of the room. Made from a rich, heavy mahogany, her desk was covered by papers, her computer, and any messy assortment of files, the mess depending on how busy she was that day, and how stressed.

Usually, it was pretty messy.

Perhaps the most noticeable things were the pictures in big silver frames, almost too many for the substantial desk space: they all portrayed Brooke's friends, her old classmates. There were a few of the cheer team from senior year, one from the cheer state championship they had won that same year, a picture of Peyton, a picture of Rachel (which Brooke would have to remember to put away), one of the three of them together in their apartment, and a few of Brooke and her other friends. There were no pictures of her blood family, considering she hadn't spoken to them since sometime around high school graduation. It all reinforced the fact that Brooke lived for her friends, she loved them; they were her family. Whenever she looked at these pictures, she smiled and got just a touch of nostalgia for Charlotte and her life back home.

But today she could barely glance at them when she came in: she had received three calls on the way to work about new accounts with Clothes over Bros and needed to return them. In addition, there were a few old accounts and clients that needed to be contacted. By the time she had gotten to work today, coupled with the crappy weekend she'd had, Brooke was already in a bad mood. Funny how things swing the other way so quickly.

Brooke was flipping rapidly through an address book that morning when Lisa, her personal assistant and secretary, came in. Lisa was a bit ditzy and blonde sometimes, but she got the job done with no qualms and never really irritated Brooke too badly. In fact, Lisa reminded Brooke a bit of Bevin, an old friend from high school: adorably and entertainingly airheaded.

"Um, Brooke, you have a call…"

Brooke glanced up. She was standing, hunched over her desk and the tiny book. "Well, Lisa, I'm a little busy right now, and stressed, can you tell them—"

"She said that you would say that," Lisa interrupted, then checked a little post-it she was carrying, "And she said 'tell dear Brooke to just pick up the damn phone before I shove it somewhere she won't like it.'" Lisa looked back to Brooke from the post-it eagerly.

"What?" Brooke stared blankly, completely nonplussed. "Lisa, who is on the line?"

"It's Peyton," Lisa replied, in a 'duh' tone, as if Brooke had just asked what color the sky was. "Want me to tell her that you're busy—"

Brooke shrugged happily, instantly closing the address book. "Of course not," she said, laughing, "Put her on." The frazzled look on her face faded to an easy smile as she sidled into her seat and grabbed the phone. Lovely. Peyton was always good at diverting Brooke's worries (example number one: the weekend), and Brooke got to ignore the three account calls she had to make today. Win-win. She held the phone to her ear and pressed the flashing button.

"P. Sawyer!" she exclaimed happily.

She heard her friend's unusually warm voice flood over the line a second later. "What's up, B. Davis?" she laughed.

"Nothing much, blondie, except that you just saved me from having to work," she replied, "Speaking of, how's the new job going?"

Peyton looked around at the tiny desk that had been crammed into the copy room, the one that was there mainly for the purpose of a place to put paper while copies were being made. It was dirty, and wobbled if it was hit too hard. Or touched at all. The copy room was uncomfortably small as well.

"It's great," Peyton lied, but she figured she must've put enough believability into it because Brooke didn't object. In fact, Peyton had just gotten back from her second coffee run so far, and had gone around to all the executives asking if they needed anything. "I'm having a lot of fun." Then she rolled her eyes, masking her utter and crushing disappointment.

On the other end of the line, despite Peyton's bubbly attitude, Brooke sensed something in the blonde. She didn't want to push it though; Peyton would tell her when she was ready.

Peyton continued. "Anyway, Brooke, that's not why I'm calling." Her voice took a sharp, excited upswing. "Guess what?" she practically shouted.

"What?"

"Haley's coming! To New York! To see us!"

Brooke's ensuing scream could probably be heard on the other side of the building, in the photoshoot section. She leapt up from her chair, barely keeping the phone to her ear, and almost started dancing. Haley! As in Haley James! Haley had been Brooke and Peyton's other best friend, the fourth in their group of four: Rachel, Haley, Brooke and Peyton. They hadn't seen each other for at least a year and a half. After high school, Brooke, Peyton and Rachel had moved to New York, and Haley had continued on to college. None of the girls had been surprised; Haley was the Valedictorian of their class, a bookworm at heart. Despite their differences, all of the girls had been close and had gone through a lot together in their years of high school.

Brooke pressed the phone to her ear again. "P. Sawyer, are you serious? Haley! Oh my god!"

"Hell yeah, I'm serious! She just called me!" Peyton echoed Brooke's excitement. "She's coming up for the weekend, she wants to see us!"

Brooke screamed again, thrilled and overjoyed and homesick all at the same. God. Haley James! Save for the occasional long email, the girls had barely communicated since high school. Now she was coming up! Brooke looked at one of the pictures on her desk, the one that showed all four of the best friends sitting on Brooke's old bed in Charlotte. All four of them had wet hair and guilty, amused smiles on their faces.

She remembered fondly that night, the time that they had all gone skinny dipping at the country club pool, of which Brooke's parents were members. The escapade had been led by Rachel and Brooke, with Peyton doing anything for a rush and Haley having to be dragged into the water. It had been a summer night, the summer between Junior and Senior year.

Long story short, they had hidden their clothes in a small enclosure, behind the fenced in pool heater. But when they had finished their laughing and teasing and playing in the water, Haley had jumped out to grab their clothes and realized that the janitor had shut and locked the pool heater area, with their clothes inside. Haley had jumped back into the water, and the girls spent another hour trying to figure out what to do. Just when they had decided to make a break for the car, the hot pool boy that Haley had had a crush on came out, intending to check the pool before going home for the night. Haley had panicked and bolted from the water, stark naked. The motion lights had instantly turned on, exposing all four girls naked in the water.

The pool boy had stared. The girls had stared back, frozen in mortification. Then Brooke had broken the silence with a wild, rather valiant shot in the dark: "Care to join us?" she'd asked him, grimacing apologetically.

Several hours, many of Haley's "I'm so sorry, oh my god,"s, a few of Rachel's swear words, a couple of Peyton's eyerolls and many of Brooke's stifled giggles later, the three girls were on there way home. The manager had pulled them out of the pool and given them all blankets, but he was still irate. Brooke's parents had managed to pay him for his silence, but the drive home was silent. But as soon as the four girls got back to Brooke's house and were in her room, they were laughing hysterically and embarrassedly about the whole situation. Haley, obviously, had been a little miffed that they had ruined her chances with the pool boy, but she joined in with her friends within moments. And of course, they had never let Brooke live down her futile attempt at smooth talking: "Care to join us?"

Brooke smiled at the memory; she could still feel the warm water, and she still had to stifle a laugh whenever she thought about that warm summer night. She missed Haley James and Charlotte, and felt like she was getting some of her high school years back with the news that Haley was coming to see them. She then remembered the phone that was still clutched in her hand, and put it back to her ear. "Peyton, does she need a place to stay? Is she going to stay with us?" she finally asked, floating.

"Uh, no, I think she said she was just getting a hotel room," Peyton said.

Brooke calmed down a little bit, but kept grinning from ear to ear. She fell back into her seat, reclining casually. "That's weird," she laughed.

"Yeah," Peyton agreed, but Brooke could almost feel her shrug. "But who cares? Haley's coming!"

Brooke almost jumped back up again. "I know!" she cried, thrilled. They were like two little girls again, gushing over the latest boytoy.

Just then, Lisa appeared in her office doorway. She had two big men behind, with muscle shirts and stony looks on their faces. "Brooke!" Lisa said urgently, "Are you ok? I called security, I heard you scream…"

But Brooke just kept laughing happily, excited.

Haley James.

* * *

Later, Brooke strolled down the spacious, marble-tiled hallway of Clothes over Bros, past different lounge chairs and couches and modern art and tables with vases on them. She was in the photo shoot section, the model section, and behind each door along the hallway was a studio for the different shoots. Today, she only had to check that everything was going ok with the models and the photographers, that the dresses fit, the lighting was working.

Everything had been going well so far. Haley was coming, and the thrill of that news kept Brooke floating down the hallway. She'd hardly thought about Chase or Rachel, and what had happened Friday night and Saturday morning was completely out of her mind. She hoped. In any case, trivial work like this helped to occupy her thinking.

That is, until she pushed into studio C8.

It was a large room, made for big name magazine photo shoots, with bare dark walls and tracks of adjustable lighting along a catwalk at the top. There was a silver-white photo backdrop in the center of the cavernous room, with more lighting and even a small fan for the models. There were only two people in here; a photographer, and a tall, red-haired model: Rachel. She wore a dress that Brooke had actually created herself.

It was a relatively simply dress, halter-style with a plunging neckline. A slit ran up one side from the diagonally cut bottom to the waistline, freeing one leg. Other than the few clean cuts, nothing interrupted the elegant fabric that was like water on a dark night; flowing, cool, deep and endlessly black. It complemented Rachel's long, tanned figure and five inch strappy heels quite well, but Brooke could barely concentrate on the dress. Her hands gripped the clipboard she was carrying until her knuckles turned a garish white, but her face remained calm and even serene.

Rachel was facing the doorway Brooke stood in, and saw her first. Their eyes met, Brooke's angry Hazel and Rachel's instantly sorry brown ones, and the redhead's shoulders dropped an inch.

Then the man with the camera turned; Brooke recognized David, one of their lead photographers.

"Ah, Ms. Davis!" he greeted warmly with a heavy French accent. She suspected it was false, but didn't really care. "What do you think of the dress? The lighting? The angles?"

Rachel and Brooke exchanged another glance. In addition to the dress, Rachel wore a look of cool disinterest, just another model that was waiting for the designer's approval. But Brooke could see the barely concealed heat in her gaze, the will to just look away or start swearing. Hidden beneath her cool demeanor, it seemed like she was gearing up for an argument. But Rachel remained perfectly still, in the center of the room against the white backdrop, watching, waiting for Brooke's appraisal.

In reality, Brooke could have cared less about the dress, and she had a feeling that Rachel knew that, but the brunette just put on her usual business façade. She carefully considered the design, tapping the side of her face with one perfectly manicured red nail. "You know, I'm not really sure if that dress is working. I think it's too slutty."

The deadlock broke; Rachel threw her arms up in the air, exasperated. "You designed the dress, Brooke." Heat emanated from her dark brown eyes as she stared Brooke down, but she seemed angrier at Brooke's headstrong nature than anything. David seemed to realize the tension in the air, and instantly shut his fake French mouth. He tried not to look at either of the girls, who had resumed their standoff.

Brooke seemed to consider again. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I guess it's not the dress. It must be the model." She shrugged, as if there was nothing she could do, and turned to walk out the door without a second glance.

"Hey!" Rachel crossed the room in three strides, even in heels that put her over six feel tall. Behind them, David examined his camera equipment with nervous care and feigned deafness. When they were out in the hallway, Rachel got to Brooke and grabbed her shoulder, spun her around, and got right into the brunette's face. Rachel may have been a few inches taller and definitely pissed off, but Brooke had a weekend's worth of pent up resentment and jealousy and guilt and it was all coming out now; her hazel eyes were a black fire.

It was a pretty even match.

Rachel started. "Brooke, you know me; if you were any other girl I would have kicked your ass by now," she said aggressively through gritted teeth, taking a small step forward.

Brooke snorted, as if daring Rachel to try, but remained silent.

"But you're not," the red-head continued, ignoring Brooke's reaction, "Look, you're my best friend, like a sister to me; you have been since high school, and you're going to continue to be. I know you're mad, Brooke, but you have no idea how sorry I am and what I wouldn't give for a second chance." It wasn't a sad sort of begging, more of a determined announcement; Rachel was not going to lose Brooke.

Exhaling hard through her nose, Brooke looked away, off to the side. They were alone in the long, empty hallway now; there was no one to see or even hear them arguing, but both Brooke and Rachel kept there voices low with quietly controlled anger. Brooke's jaw was still set in frustration. Thoughts seemed to be whirling through her head, but Rachel couldn't read Brooke to save her life.

She waited impatiently, not knowing what to do, until Brooke looked back and said with complete abruptness, "Haley's coming sometime this week."

Haley. As in Haley James, their best friend. Rachel, seeming to forget the seriousness of the situation, let her jaw drop and the corners of her mouth turn upward in excited disbelief. Though she hadn't been the best of friends with Haley James in high school, they had been relatively close. She also knew how close Brooke and Peyton were with the girl. Rachel also, though she refused to admit, missed Haley and Charlotte and the memories that Haley brought back.

"Brooke, that's great! When does she get here, what—"

Brooke's head whipped around from the vase she had been examining to face Rachel once more. "Look," she interjected, "I didn't come here to gush with you about one of my best friends coming to see us." Though her voice wasn't exactly livid anymore, it still carried an undertone of frustration and disappointment. It seemed that she hadn't forgotten the seriousness of their circumstances, though Rachel might have. They weren't friends, and she obviously wanted to make sure Rachel didn't forget that.

"Then why did you come here?" Rachel asked, quiet and somber in an instant. Her mood changed at once from the happy bubble she had been a moment ago.

"I came here because it's my job, in case you haven't noticed!" Brooke's voice rose in volume again as she flung up a finger to point out 'Brooke Penelope Davis' beneath the Clothes over Bros sign.

Rachel's reply was monotone. "I know that. I mean, why did you come to see me? You knew I was shooting, you knew everything; you didn't have to come in. Why?"

Brooke opened her mouth in heated response, but then paused and closed it, pulling her head back a little. She regarded Rachel with a mixture of resentment and uncertainty. And there was something else in her eyes that Rachel didn't recognize.

It seemed the question was harder when Brooke stopped and thought about it. How was she supposed to fight back at Rachel when she couldn't even answer the girl's questions? Why _had_ she come here?

Rachel answered it for her before Brooke could even consider the question any further. "You came here because you wanted to see me. Because you're not sure. You still cared; you still wanted, on some subconscious level, to see if we are completely done." Brooke's eyes were cold. "So are we, Brooke? Is our friendship really that far gone?"

It should have been. The friendship should have been completely done, over, and Brooke shouldn't have even been there. She opened her mouth, but again, Brooke found herself struck dumb, unable to answer the question for some reason.

* * *

Peyton poked her head around the heavy wooden door of the executive's office. "Um, Mr. Rust?"

An older man, maybe fifty, looked up from a file on his desk. "Miss Sawyer, right?" he asked jovially. He wore an expensive black suit, with silver hair that was slicked back over his head. His body was surprisingly trim and fit for his age.

Peyton edged into the room, then shut the door behind her. "Yes, sir, I just wanted to talk about something."

"How are you adjusting?" he asked, in that same jaunty voice, oblivious to her strained state.

"Um, that's sort of what I wanted to talk about." She took a few tentative steps forward

Jack gestured for her to sit down, nodding. "Sure, sure."

The room was large, at least twice the size of her copy room office. Expensive jet black wood-and-glass furniture contrasted starkly with the glossy white walls, and the thick white carpet that covered the floor. The room had a huge floor to ceiling window that took up an entire wall and overlooked a large part of the city. Jack was behind a classy looking ebony desk, hands folded on the desktop, his face displaying polite interest in whatever his newest employee had to say.

The whole spectacle was a bit too grandiose for Peyton's taste. She mentally rolled her eyes as she sank into one of the sleek looking chairs, but smiled at her new boss anyways.

"So," he said, "What is it that you need to talk about?"

"Ok," she said decisively, jumping right in. There was a time for lying, and this was not it. "I'm really happy to be working here, but I just thought that—"

"That you would be recruiting artists, in a different venue every night, scouting?"

Peyton shrugged, sinking a little into the chair. "Yeah, sort of. I thought that's what the position was about. How'd you know that's what I wanted to talk about?"

Jack gave her a toothy smile, and spun his chair around to a file cabinet behind him. "Sabrina told me," he said, his head buried in the files, "She's a great girl."

Barely managing a level voice, Peyton said simply, "I've met her." She was also reminded of what Sabrina had said this morning about sleeping with Jack. Peyton grimaced.

Jack slammed the file cabinet shut and spun back around, a yellow file in his hands. He set it on the desk and looked up at her. "So," he said, opening the file, "I have your resume here, so I'll just outline a few things." He showed Peyton the official piece of paper she had worked hours on. "Peyton, I like you, but it seems you don't have much experience in this field. Actually, you don't have much of anything listed under 'experience.'"

Peyton bit her lip. Her shoulders dipped a fraction of an inch.

"You had one reference, with whom I wasn't able to get a hold of." Jack leaned back in his chair, looking tired, even though he had seemed perfectly normal thirty seconds ago. He rubbed a hand under his eyes. Then he looked back at a very blank Peyton.

"Peyton, we had a lot of people angling for a job here, and only a few positions. The job you applied for was filled by Sabrina, after some…persuasion on her part." He grinned a little smile, then continued, "And you said your skills included office work, so you were considered for the job you have now."

"Then why'd you pick me?" She asked, just able to keep the scathing tone out of her voice.

Jack shrugged, his smile returning to his face. "I liked the picture included with the cover letter." He carelessly tossed the resume aside, and showed her instead the picture of herself that she had included on Brooke's advice. It was a picture of her that Brooke had taken at a party; just her normal self, wearing a tight fitting top with her trademark leather jacket and blue jeans.

Looking at it now, Peyton could have torn the picture to pieces. Instead, she stood up. "Thank you, Mr. Rust, for taking the time to speak with me." She smiled at him, a smile that didn't reach her eyes, and shook his hand, then walked the few steps to the door.

Jack finally seemed to sense Peyton's tightness. He leaned back once more, but this time he had a little grin on his face. Peyton had just put her hand on the door when he said, "Ok, Peyton, look out there." He pointed through his glass door out into the main office where there were half a dozen people working at computers. Peyton's gaze was directed to a young man with headphones in one ear. "You see Frank there? He started as a grunt like you, three months ago. Of course, he obviously couldn't persuade me to promote him, but he got ahead in other ways. You work hard like him, and I'm sure you can get up there eventually. Or you can always try to win me over," he added, with a raise of his eyebrows.

With surprising self control, Peyton once more kept her face blank. "Thank you, Mr. Rust," she said in a monotone. She was halfway out the door when she heard his voice again.

"Call me Jack. Oh, and get me a cup of coffee, will you?"

* * *

It was only once Lisa's voice interrupted her thoughts that Brooke realized she had found her way back to her office. As she passed the desk, she pasted on a fake smile and made to walk by.

"Brooke, a man came by looking for you," said Lisa from her desk, "I didn't know him, and he didn't seem to know his way around, so I just let him go in your office."

The smile dropped off Brooke's face. She stopped in her tracks and took a moment to make sure she had heard right: Lisa had let some random person, a man she didn't know, into her private office. Brooke had everything in there: designs, clothes, jewelry, her expensive purse, and other valuable items that were in the office for their safekeeping. Now a stranger, a man no less, who had blundered into the building was loose in her private office.

Great.

"Did they have an appointment with me?" Brooke asked, her voice strained.

"No…But he was pretty cute. Pretty eyes. And he seemed to know you, so I thought it was fine."

Brooke rubbed her forehead tiredly. "Ok, honey," she told her assistant, and it occurred randomly to Brooke how many times she had used this tone with Bevin, one of her old friends, "That probably wasn't the smartest thing to do." Lisa shrugged a little apology but kept the smile on her face. Brooke turned away and stepped cautiously towards the door, then threw it open and looked inside.

But before the person standing there could say anything, Brooke poked her head out of the office and turned back to Lisa; now the look of apprehension was gone, replaced instead with the annoyed look of someone who was the victim of a bad joke. "Yeah, Lisa, it definitely was not the smartest idea." She said it loudly, looking irritable. Brooke's nails dug into the handle of the dark-colored glass door.

Lisa gave another sort of happy, apologetic shrug. Brooke just took a steadying breath and retreated to her office, even though her sanctuary was now the last place she wanted to be. She barely looked at her male visitor as she crossed the room, nervous and apprehensive once more.

Her desk was on the far side of the room, facing the door. The walk there felt like a death march in her mind, compounded by the fact that she felt his eyes burning into her back the whole way. Btu she paid no mind to him, and finally shuffled behind her desk and busied herself with some papers. She remained standing and tense.

The man leaned against the far wall, near the door, his sweaty palms flat against the white paint; he looked the nervous subject of a first time mugshot. His unsure gaze watched her movements. There was a pain there, and a nervous impatience as he waited for Brooke to say something. For a moment, glancing up at his dark, unsteady eyes, Brooke felt the smallest twinge of guilt and pity. But only for a moment, then the small lick of understanding was consumed by the fiery anger that had become her default setting lately.

Deciding Brooke wasn't going to start the conversation, he pushed himself off the wall. "Hey," Chase said.

Brooke looked up with a kinked eyebrow and simmering glare. "Hey." Then she refocused her gaze on the desk.

Chase inched forward a little more, his hands in the pockets of his oversized gray hoodie jacket. _The one I used to wear, _Brooke thought, with a little pang of sadness. Her hand tightened on a piece of paper.

"So you know?" he whispered, less of a question and more of a hesitant invitation for Brooke to share her thoughts.

"Know what?" This time, Brooke didn't look up, just continued to shuffle and reshuffle papers, making a distractingly loud sound.

"Brooke don't—"

Her hand hit the desk with a sharp crack, and she finally looked up; it seemed her attempt to occupy herself had gone out the window. "Of course I know," she said, lips tightly pursed and teeth gritted with an amazing self-control, "I just want to hear you say it."

He seemed to steel himself then: Chase took a breath and straightened his slumped shoulders. For another brief instant, Brooke felt a little flick of admiration and warmth for Chase. "About Rachel and I. What happened." The way her nails dug into her skin was all the confirmation Chase needed. "Brooke you have no idea—"

"Let me guess," Brooke interrupted, "How sorry you are? If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that this weekend, I wouldn't have to work at all."

For the first time, the corner's of Chase's mouth rose, if only a tiny bit. "That's not true; I know how much you love this company."

"I'm sure, Chase, that if you knew how much it mattered to me, then you would have come around here a bit more."

That's when Chase became a little defensive: He brought his arms up and his voice rose. "I did come around, Brooke, but sometimes you seemed to busy and stressed out for me, so I would leave." Then he froze, recognizing his mistake immediately.

She stared at him for a long second, as if unable to believe he had just said that. "What would you do then, Chase?" she asked scathingly. "Would you go find someone to hookup with because I was busy or you couldn't find me? Kinda like what you did at the party, except your dumb ass decided to try it with my best friend!" Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and her voice rose in fiery passion. "How many times did that happen?"

"None!" he said immediately, instinctively reaching his arms out to try and comfort her, but Brooke's icy, now teary glare held him back. "And there was nothing between me and Rachel—"

"Yeah, I know there was nothing between you Friday night! I couldn't even see daylight between you." She shook her head derisively; one tear slipped from her eye. Chase looked down, at a loss for words and unable to meet her bitter hazel gaze. He had stopped a few feet from her desk, unable to come any closer. Each word was full of pain, because each word came straight from Brooke's heart. But despite all the emotion, Brooke stood up a little straighter, strengthening and retreating behind her wall. "But it doesn't matter now. I'm done. I'm done with you, and I'm done with us. I don't care anymore."

Chase looked up quickly, brow furrowing in heartbreak. His world was crashing down around him, with Brooke manning the wrecking ball, and he was the one that had inadvertently put her there. "Brooke please; you have to care. You're too perfect and too great to not care. You're not that girl, so don't you dare become her. You still have your friends; Peyton, Rachel, everyone. You still have me. I still care for you, I still love you. Please, Brooke. Don't do that."

Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes; Brooke was reminded of a song that Peyton was always playing.

_I've been so unfair,_

_misplacing my affections._

_She had a reason not to take me back into her care._

_I'm just a stray dog now, I can't beg or bow…_

Despite her anger, despite what Chase had done with Rachel, despite what Brooke had done that night, she softened at the sight of his lost face. The sun was nearing the city horizon now, casting a shadow over his handsome features, making Chase look even more distressed. Her anger waned slightly, and her voice rose a few degrees from it's icy tone.

"Chase, I'm not in high school anymore. Those lines are pretty, but useless," she pleaded, "I'm different from the girl I used to be. Hell, I've changed since we've met. It's not the same anymore, we're not the same. I love you, Chase, but we don't work anymore. And Friday night just drove the final nail into the coffin. You got bored of waiting for me, of looking for the girl that you met, and you moved on, in a way. You found someone that met your needs, and it wasn't me. And as soon as that girl isn't me, we're done." As she spoke, the ferocity faded from her face, leaving Brooke with a simple sadness etched over her features: this, more than any fight, more than him hooking up with another girl, was the end of their amazing relationship.

And she knew it.

And judging by the way his eyes clouded over and he bit his lip, so did Chase.

"I'm sorry," she added, in a final whisper, and then it was over. It was almost like a physical bond between them was snapped clean through. Chase moved forward slowly, and tried to take her into his arms once more. Out of fight, Brooke let him, tired of everything. But she didn't reciprocate, rather remained sitting on her desk, arms folded and eyes directed to one side. As Chase pulled away, he kissed her once, a goodbye kiss, on the top of her head. He kept his lips pressed into her hair like that for a long moment, inhaling her scent for the last time. Then he backed away, finally, reluctance in every fiber of his being. Brooke turned her head away from the spot of wall she was examining, blinking away the tears in her eyes, to watch him go.

Chase was at the doorway when he stopped and turned, one thing left on his lips. "Brooke, I'm trying not to be a bad guy."

_I'm a good guy, Brooke._

The words from Friday night echoed in her head, but Brooke ignored them. That's what all guys said. She remained silent with that thought in mind, and didn't meet his eye, no matter how hard it was to keep her eyes from sliding back to his face.

Chase waited, maybe to see Brooke's face change from sadness to realization; maybe to see if there was any chance that she would take him back. But Brooke's eyes betrayed no such thing as she waited for Chase to leave. He still cared for her, and she was the only force that could have made him leave that office.

He gave a little sigh, exhaling the last of his hopes, and pushed through the door for what Brooke knew would be the last time. Then he was gone, and it was like finally breaking the surface after being underwater: she could breathe again.

She fell into her desk chair, eyes shut, marveling at how unbelievably good have something that would support her but wouldn't cheat on her.

God, she was tired. Funny how one Monday could do that to you. She felt like calling Peyton, but she knew that her friend was working and probably having a great time with all the new bands she had looked up over the weekend. Then, as she contemplated calling Lisa to have her assistant get Brooke a coffee, a flash of bright yellow against the red-brown wood of her dark desk caught Brooke's eye. She glanced down for a closer look at her desk and inhaled a small breath.

A perfect yellow tulip lay on the mahogany wood. It was the same type tulip that Chase always gave her whenever they had a date or whenever he felt like surprising her. She picked it up with exceedingly gentle hands; Brooke fingered the silken petals, smelling it tenderly. Chase had left it there, she was sure. Not a bouquet, nothing big, just a simple flower. "Their" flower. Somehow, that felt better than anything else he could have done.

She rubbed it delicately across her cheek; the light touch made it feel like Chase was still in the room with her. Brooke's green-brown eyes softened, and the smallest hint of a smile played on her lips.

* * *

_:D Tah dah! _

_Thanks for reading and putting up with my widely-spaced updates :D_

_Oh, and the lyrics I used in the Brooke/Chase conversation were from the Jack's Mannequin song "Miss California," which is a really great song, by the way._

_So check back soon for an update of Himerus and Eros, and even sooner for my next update of Don't Blink!_

_I have a feeling you'll like the next chapter of Himerus and Eros ;)_

_--Chandler_


	4. Here It Goes Again

_What's up, everyone! Latest update, I hope everyone likes. Lately, I know the show has sort of... sucked. But while I wrote this, I actually felt really good about the show and writing this made me happy to be an OTH fan, so I hope you feel the same reading this. We'll get out of this rough patch, no worries._

_Anyways, the chapter is titled "Here It Goes Again," a song by Ok Go. (Really good song, by the way) Sadly, I don't own them, and the song belongs to the band._

_So, enjoy the chapter!_

_--Chandler_

* * *

"I say you just quit."

Peyton paused midway through clearing off the table to sigh and compose herself, so she wouldn't end up beating her best friend to death.

Ever since she had told Brooke about her horrible job at the label, Brooke had been on the warpath. Hell had nothing on a pissed off Brooke Davis, a sometimes vindictive Brooke Davis. Monday night, after she had come home and Peyton reluctantly told her what had happened on her first day, Brooke had set her heart on going down to the label building, at nine at night, to "kick that Sabrina girl's ass." Peyton, relatively cool and logical (and sarcastic as always), had convinced her friend of Sabrina's bad karma and that she'd get what was coming to her. Brooke had calmed down, eventually. But that was just Monday night.

On Tuesday, Brooke had been a bit more diplomatic: she had burst into the lobby of Peyton's workplace and furiously demanded to see a manager. The blonde, after hearing someone talk about "a psychotic woman in the lobby," had flown down three flights of stairs to essentially tackle Brooke out the front door. Luckily, she'd gotten there before management, but only just. She had figured there was some alcohol involved that day. Then finally, finally, Tuesday night Peyton had managed to dissuade Brooke from coming anywhere within a fifty-yard radius of her workplace and to just let Peyton deal with it. Brooke was still angry about the whole situation, however, and on Wednesday changed tactics to persuade Peyton to talk to someone.

"You could talk to you're boss again," she would say, "And demand that he fire that other whore."

"Brooke," Peyton would always reply, "It's either sleep with him, or keep my head down and do my job." Then, catching sight of the light bulb that would appear over her friend's head, she would add, "And I am _not_ sleeping with him."

The light bulb would always disappear.

By Thursday, Brooke's attempts had deteriorated into simple, blunt requests that Peyton quit. She had kept relatively quiet through dinner, but as they were putting away the dishes the brunette started back up again.

"C'mon, Peyton, you could come and work in our graphic design department. You love to draw!" She handed the plates over the counter for Peyton to throw in the sink. Peyton made a face.

"Sorry, B. Davis: I got the job I applied for and I'm going to stick to it, no matter how much it sucks." She finished the dishes and headed out of the kitchen.

Brooke let out a frustrated groan, throwing her head back and following Peyton into the living room. "But Peyt…" she moaned.

Peyton moaned back in the exact same tone, teasing, "But _Brooke_." Brooke sneered, and finally Peyton just laughed out loud as she fell onto the couch and picked up the remote. Nothing would be on at five, but channel surfing had always been good for nerves. Brooke collapsed next to her, with the same irritated look on her face. "Look, it's not that bad of a job," the blonde told her friend with a smile, "And what's the big deal if I keep working it? It's not hurting you."

"Yeah, but it sucks for you." She paused to sigh. "I just feel bad, I wish there was something I could do." Then her tone changed from annoyed to empathetic, and she shrugged a half-shrug.

Peyton clapped Brooke on the knee, flipping past a basketball game on TV. "Well, there isn't. It does suck, but we can't all have our own fashion lines." It was funny, how Peyton was the one with the dead-end job, yet she was the one consoling the fashionista. But really, working as a grunt wasn't too terribly bad: all she really did was make coffee, deliver mail, make copies and run errands. Otherwise, she got the day pretty much to herself. It would have bothered most other people, and it certainly did irritate her to some degree, but Peyton was laid back enough so that she could deal with it for a few months. "But thanks for looking out for me."

Brooke's roll of her eyes was much more disappointed than angry this time, but she gave Peyton a small smile to show that she gave up.

Peyton decided a change of subject a change of subject would do them good. "So," the blonde continued, "Excited about Haley?" The two girls must have discussed this a thousand times, but it still had never gotten old. Haley had called to say that she would see them up there Sunday night for dinner, then spend the week with them.

It was more of a rhetorical question, but Brooke still shouted, "Hell yes!" The subject change seemed to have worked: the air was suddenly lighter, more fun, and Brooke's pout was immediately wiped off her face. "I already have a dinner all planned out," she said. At once, Peyton started laughing, and indignation flashed over Brooke's face in response. "What?" she laughed as well, but tried to look offended.

"Just like the time when you tried to cook dinner for when Haley's parents were coming home from their trip?"

Of course she hadn't forgotten: hadn't that been one of the highlights of their junior year? Something that they always laughed about, even now, years later? Brooke went to her old defensive standby, the same as she always did whenever the incident was brought up: "Hey, you and Haley helped! And then Haley's hot neighbors were at the door, and I could have sworn you said forty minutes, not fourteen!" All of her excuses came out in a rush, but both girls were laughing. That had been fun.

Jimmy and Lydia James had gone to London for a week for Jimmy's job, leaving Haley by herself (Of course, that meant that all four girls were there every night and threw parties on Friday and Saturday, much to Haley's dismay). On the evening Haley's parents were supposed to return, the girls had elected to cook dinner for them. Everything had been going smoothly, until the doorbell had rung.

Rachel had gone to answer it, and opened it to the three gorgeous college boys who were home for the break and were visiting Haley's neighbors. Peyton, hurrying out of the room, had said to Brooke, "Just put the garlic bread in for fourteen minutes." Brooke had nodded and quickly pressed a few buttons on the oven, then followed Peyton out of the room. The four girls then had stood for a while, flirting with the boys, the dinner forgotten.

That is, until the smoke alarms in the kitchen had begun going off.

"Brooke!" Peyton had shouted once they bolted back into the kitchen. "Get the bread out of the oven, dumbass!" The whole room had been veiled in a smoky haze, and the fire alarm screamed at them. Brooke had jumped to the oven, and then turned to look at Peyton.

"It still has ten minutes left!" she had yelled, not thinking in her panic. Then Haley, who had been close on Peyton's heels and the only one who was thinking logically, had pushed past Brooke and opened the oven to reveal two flaming loaves of bread.

To say it was an unsuccessful night would have been an understatement. Haley's parents had to double check that the house they had returned to was in fact the one that had firefighters filing out of it. The dinner was completely ruined, though thankfully the kitchen had been fine. It had taken a bit longer for that stunt to blow over, as opposed to the country club pool incident. The one good outcome was that after heroically putting out the fire and escorting the girls outside, the college boys gave the girls their phone numbers.

"So, overall, a success?" Peyton had sarcastically asked, picking up a charred hunk of bread from the floor a few hours later as they had been cleaning up the kitchen. "Should we try making dinner another night?"

Haley, who had just spent an hour getting chewed out by her parents, snorted but remained silent. Grinning at the number of the blonde she had gotten, Brooke had spoken up instead. "So long as no one ever asks me to make garlic bread again, I'm in."

"And we have to invite the basketball team before we turn on the oven," Rachel had added, with a grin and a nod. From that point on, the four girls hadn't stopped laughing for the rest of the night.

After a long silence in which both girls reminisced about the episode, Peyton finally spoke up. "I think I'd better cook dinner on Sunday," she said with an air of finality. Brooke, intending to be stubborn, bit her lip and made to cross her arms, but then seemed to reconsider.

"Fine," she said reluctantly, and swatted Peyton with the magazine she had picked up.

A few minutes later, Peyton smiled. "We barely had any supervision when we were in high school. Remember that time when Kyle Dempsey broke up with Rachel?" she asked. She was still pressing the button on the remote; the constantly changing background noise was almost comforting. "The four of us stayed at my house alone for the whole weekend because my dad was out of town."

Brooke watched her flick past some old movie. "Yeah, that was bad. Five months, then Kyle just dropped her. He was such a dumbass."

"Mmhmm." Peyton nodded, gazing off into space. "It was a Thursday when he dumped her. She didn't show up to school the next day, and then Friday night we found her passed out at the bar and had to take her to my house because her parents were out of town and my dad was on a dredging trip. It was a three day weekend, remember? The four of us stayed at my place for the whole weekend, eating everything in sight and talking about how stupid Kyle was."

"He was an ass. And Rachel knew that too," Brooke said. She stared in the opposite direction of Peyton, remembering that weekend and how they had stayed inside essentially the whole time. "She knew it, but she always lied and said he was great."

"Except for when she was drunk. Remember when Haley found her?"

Brooke nodded again, laying the magazine down absently. "She kept saying how much of a jerk he was, how stupid she was for staying with him, whatever." She rolled her eyes and turned back to the TV, obviously trying to end the conversation about Rachel. Peyton took the hint and looked away as well.

But the blonde had one last comment before they settled into silence once more. "You know, people _always_ tell the truth when they're drunk," she sagely observed. Even when Brooke turned back to look at Peyton, the blonde kept her eyes level on the TV. "Whether that's a good or bad thing, I don't know."

"Thank you, fortune cookie," Brooke declared sarcastically, rolling her eyes. The deep moment broke, and Peyton smiled and shook her head. "Now pick a damn channel," the brunette continued, "I'm bored." And just like that, the conversation was over and thoughts of Rachel were gone completely, out of their minds, as they would be for the rest of the night.

* * *

The next day, Friday, was relatively quiet. Brooke didn't see or hear of Rachel at C over B, considering she was doing her best to avoid wherever the redhead might be found, and Peyton kept her head down at the label and did her job. She ignored Brooke's advice about quitting or talking to her boss, completing without incident whatever menial tasks she was given. On Friday night, they both agreed to stay in and not go out partying: Haley was coming on Sunday, and the two friends felt they needed to have everything completely ready and perfect.

They spent most of Saturday alternating between relaxing and cleaning. They would work for around an hour, Brooke would call break, and the two would relax and reminisce for another hour. Throughout the day, their work periods got shorter and shorter, and their 'breaks' would get longer and longer until at last they decided to give up altogether. They promised each other that they would get after it tomorrow.

They held true on their promise. As soon as they finished breakfast on Sunday morning, Brooke left and got all the food and drinks they would need for dinner, plus refills for the bar in the living room. Ever since it had run out last week, they'd had no real cause for it until now. As far as cleaning went, Peyton began in the living room, where most of the night would take place. Once Brooke returned, the plan was to finish that room, then move on to where the girls would actually be eating. They would leave the kitchen for last, considering Brooke was going to attempt to make dinner, and cleaning it beforehand would just be fighting a losing battle.

Around noon, Peyton was sitting the living room rearranging a stack of magazines when she heard the front door open and close and the rustle of plastic bags in the entryway. Without looking up, she called, "Did you get the alcohol?" Brooke staggered in a moment later, holding up a dozen plastic bags on her arms

"I got it," she said weakly. While clothes shopping was her specialty, Brooke was not as used to shopping for food, especially in such large amounts; that was usually Peyton's job. It had obviously been a hellish Sunday morning at wherever Brooke bought everything from. She was frazzled, to say the least.

But Peyton barely paid any attention to her friend's flustered state. In fact, she didn't even look up, just continued to clear off a table. "Good. Now go refill the bar." It seemed as though the blonde had been granted complete control over the operation: for once, Brooke was complying.

The minutes passed in silence as Brooke followed Peyton's orders. She dragged a small box over for the old bottles, and began brushing them off the counter. For a while it was the only sound that could be heard in the room. Once the crashing had faded and only the faint clink of bottles as Brooke put the new ones away could be heard, Peyton looked up suddenly from the coffee table she was clearing off.

"Hey," she said, to get Brooke's attention. The brunette looked up to meet her eyes, and Peyton smiled apologetically. "I know this is sort of last minute, but I completely forgot: while you were gone, Haley called. She's bringing someone to dinner tonight, for us to meet."

Brooke cocked her head, holding a bottle in midair halfway to the table. She raised one questioning eyebrow and smiled, what seemed to be the only movements in the apartment as Peyton waited for Brooke's response. "Ooh," she grinned, breaking the silence, giving the reply that the blonde had anticipated. "Who's she bringing?" Peyton knew that Brooke's mind was going a mile a minute, running through possibilities of who Haley could be bringing. It was the exact same thing Peyton had done when she had first heard the news.

But Peyton's answer provided no clues. "I don't know, Haley wouldn't say," the blonde told Brooke, with another apologetic smile. "She just said that she was bringing someone up for dinner, that she wanted us to meet him." With a dismissive shrug of her shoulders, Peyton tried to go back to work, but it was too late: arouse Brooke Davis's curiosity, and you'll never sate it.

"Him?" Although her eyebrow had been raised before and a soft smile had graced her face before, her eyebrow was now kinked up in the famous Brooke Davis fashion and a not-so-innocent smirk was spread over her features. Peyton, with a sigh, looked up once more from the coffee table.

"Yes, _him_. She wouldn't say if he was like a boyfriend or friend or what."

And then Brooke's eyes darted away, unfocused, as she considered who Haley could possibly be bringing up. The possibilities were endless, especially since Haley had said 'him.'

Just another reason to look forward to Haley's arrival. Brooke grinned, then went back to stocking the bar.

* * *

It was almost four; Haley had said she would be there before four thirty. Brooke and Peyton waited in excited anticipation as they skipped around the kitchen, trying to find something to do to pass the time. Although the blonde had been much cooler and level-headed earlier, Brooke's infectious enthusiasm seemed to have taken over and now Peyton could barely sit still in their gleaming kitchen. Haley! It was like not seeing a sister for two years, a sister that you loved more than anything, and you knew it was only minutes until her arrival home to you. Haley James. Neither of them could stop thinking of her name, almost like it was a drug.

Everything was set. Water for spaghetti would be put on in a few minutes, and the rest of the food was prepped to be cooked later. A few bottles of wine were out. The over was on, heating up for the garlic bread that Brooke had bought mostly for nostalgia reasons. The bread sat on the counter now; every time one of the girls caught sight of it, a smile would spread over their face and maybe even a giggle would slip out. The dinner was going to be great.

Suddenly, Brooke looked up. "So," she said to get Peyton's attention. The blonde turned to see Brooke's weakly smiling, nervous, almost apologetic face. Questions whipped through her mind, the loudest of which was: _What did she do wrong that she's apologizing for? Should I be worried?_

Brooke continued. "You know how Haley said she'd invited someone?" Peyton said nothing: it was a rhetorical question. "Well…I did too." She fell silent, as if to let that sink in. Peyton raised an eyebrow, though it wasn't hostile at all.

"You invited someone?" she asked, curious and surprised. "Who?" She planted a hand on the dark granite countertop and stared at her friend.

"You wouldn't know him," Brooke responded quickly. This was a big leap of faith for her: she was going to see him again and she was nervous as hell. "W-we met a party last week, and I…got his cell number. We've been talking for the past week, just talking. I haven't seen him since, but I really like him, and I figured this was the perfect time to invite since Haley was coming over and we'd be having fun and dinner." She sucked in a breath after the abrupt end to her ramblings and said no more.

Now it was Peyton's turn to raise an eyebrow, as Brooke had done that morning when Peyton told her of Haley's mystery guest. "Him?" she asked. The suggestion behind her smirk was unmistakable. There was silence in the kitchen for a moment, and then Peyton began bombarding her friend with questions. "What's his name? Was I at the party when you met him? What time is he coming?"

Brooke's high laugh stopped Peyton. "Calm down, P. Sawyer, you'll give yourself a complex. You sound like an overeager mom." Peyton flushed, biting her tongue and looking away, trying to hide her smirk. Brooke tossed her hair over her shoulder and continued, "He said he'd be here around the time Haley arrived, so—"

"But what's his name?" Peyton's potent curiosity couldn't be diminished, and Brooke laughed again. She didn't even bother to try to answer whatever Peyton was asking. "You still haven't told me everything, what—"

The doorbell rang. The world froze.

Peyton broke off in mid question, eyes widening and mouth falling slightly open, almost too stunned to say anything. Brooke was much the same: she stared at Peyton, then flicked her gaze over her shoulder as if she was trying to see through the walls to the entryway, then looked back to Peyton with an unreadable expression on her face. The two friends stared at each other for a heartbeat; the corners of Peyton's mouth turned up in anticipation.

"Is that him?" she asked, unbelieving, her voice sounding loud against the excited silence. Brooke shrugged, eyes wide. Together the two girls stepped slowly into the entryway; Peyton, who was slightly behind Brooke, stopped a few feet away. Leaning over, Brooke looked through the peephole.

"No," she said slowly, her face pressed against the door. "…It's Haley."

Just as quickly as it had frozen, the world sped up again. Peyton's jaw dropped and she let out a shriek, leaping forward instantly to grab the door. But Brooke was already ahead of her; with the widest, most electric, excited smile on her face, she pulled open the door.

"Haley!"

It wasn't clear who screamed the girl's name, because in that instant the entryway became a wild tangle of limbs. Peyton hadn't slowed as Brooke opened the door, and they both tackled Haley in a wild bear hug and dragged her over the threshold of their apartment. They laughed and shouted and screamed and hugged tighter; it got to the point where one of them fell and all three girls went down in a tangled heap of limbs and friends and laughter, so utterly overjoyed to be with each other again that it didn't matter that they were on the floor.

"Haley!"

"Brooke! Peyton!"

"I can't believe you're here!"

"How are you?"

"Oh my god!"

"Haley James!"

Beyond that, basically nothing could be deciphered from the chatter that filled then entryway. It was as if each girl was competing to get out as many questions as possible, as loud as they could. However, when a deep laugh came from the doorway, Brooke, Peyton, and Haley all fell quiet from the surprise; they disentangled themselves slightly to see who was talking, but they still remained in a heap on the floor.

"Wow, Hales, I like your friends already."

He had dark brown hair that was almost black, and light blue eyes provided perfect contrast. His shirt, a simple black button up, complimented his well-muscled six-foot frame; he had the lean, panther-like look of an athlete, and a good one at that. The broad shoulders and a sculpted chest and arms betrayed were a football player's physique, but he also had the lithe body and legs of a sprinter. As he waited in the entryway, kneading his hands somewhat nervously, an easy, carefree smile spread over his chiseled features.

Two of three mouths dropped open. Brooke and Peyton stared, and Haley laughed a quick little laugh and looked back at her friends.

"Well, Brooke, Peyton," she said, as if she had no idea what to say and was making it up as she went along, "This is Nathan, Nathan Scott. He's my boyfriend; we've been going out for over a year."

There was silence.

Obviously a little hesitant from her friends reactions, or lack thereof, Haley continued, "I-I hope it's ok that I brought him along, I just wanted you three to meet him…" She trailed off, watching their faces as the two girls stared at Nathan in complete surprise. Brooke's eyebrow was kinked ever so slightly, and Peyton was biting her lip.

Finally, Brooke spoke. "It's _perfectly _ok, Haley, it's fine. So, so fine…" Her tone was far away, absent, like she was automatic as she kept her eyes level on Nathan. Her eyebrow was arched, the famous Brooke Davis kink.

The three girls were still sat on the floor, far too preoccupied to consider standing up. For one, Haley was here, a fact that they were barely managing to comprehend. And, to add to their shock, she had brought a gorgeous guy, apparently her boyfriend, with her to meet them. But it seemed that Brooke's absent comment brought them back to their senses: Haley gave a little laugh, but Peyton snorted with a mix of amusement and derision. With a look of cool annoyance written all over her face, she reached over and pushed Brooke's lower jaw closed.

"Gawking session is over, bud," she said, with a roll of her eyes. Brooke flushed embarrassedly, but all three of them were laughing as if it had been one of the stunts they had pulled in high school. Even Nathan, from the doorway, let out a deep timber laugh. Peyton continued, "Why don't we actually stand up and meet him, instead of just laying here on the floor laughing our asses off at stupid things?"

One by one, the girls hauled themselves off the floor and stood to meet Nathan. Haley took over the introductions. "This is Brooke," she announced to Nathan, nodding to the brunette. She pointed to Peyton, "And Peyton." Nathan shook hands with each of them, while Haley continued to the girls, "And, just in case you haven't figured it out yet, this is Nathan. Just to be official, you know." She shrugged, jumping a little bit.

"I've heard all about you two," Nathan said warmly. He seemed like a very confident, strong guy, used to situations like this and very polite and sweet. They would have liked him even if he had no connection to Haley. "Thanks for letting me crash your party." He smiled a winning smile, taking a few steps deeper into the house with them.

"No problem," Brooke answered. They had gotten over their initial shock of seeing Nathan standing at the doorway and had returned to their normal selves. "Let's go into the living room," she added to the group, "I stocked up our bar today, so we can hang out before dinner."

* * *

"Well," Nathan was saying, "I grew up in this little town, Tree Hill. It's near Wilmington on the coast. I lived there all my life, played basketball at Tree Hill High School, you know," he grinned. "The hometown golden boy." The rest of the group echoed his smile.

Nathan, Haley, Peyton, and Brooke all sat around the bar in the living room, nursing drinks as they talked. Brooke, who had just finished bartending for everyone, stood on the other side of the counter with Haley, while across the granite countertop Nathan and Peyton sat on stools. Nathan had one hand on the thigh of his dark blue jeans and the other on the counter: he was relaxed and confident even though all eyes were on him as he told the girls about himself.

"So," he paused, as if casting around for something interesting enough about his life to tell them, "I got emancipated at seventeen and lived the last half of my senior year in an apartment by myself. Then, as soon as housing opened up at Duke in the summer after graduation, I bailed. I've only seen my parents a few times since I emancipated myself."

Peyton's eyebrows rose. This was definitely interesting enough. "You gotemancipated?" she asked in disbelief. "Why?" Nathan chuckled, exchanging a smile with Haley, who had obviously already heard the story.

"Yeah, the Scott family is pretty messed up, mostly because of my dick dad." At their questioning gazes, he explained further, "My dad was a big basketball guy back in high school and half of college. When he was about to graduate Tree Hill High, he made some big decisions which turned into bigger mistakes and left a lot of people pissed off. He hardly even cared. Then, when I was growing up in Tree Hill, it was like he was trying to relive his basketball glory days vicariously through me: pressuring me, telling me I needed to be better, that sort of thing. Eventually everything snapped, and it tore my family apart. So I bailed." His voice trailed off into silence.

"Damn," was all Brooke could say as they considered the story he had just told them. Peyton was thinking much the same, but she stayed quiet. It was hard to believe that someone like Nathan could have come out of a home like that, but they knew he was telling the truth.

He nodded in response. "Yeah." He fell silent and looked away, as if he was reflecting on his teenage years, but then he looked up with a brighter smile. "But, I guess my dad's pushing did some good: I've always loved basketball, and now I'm the starting shooting guard for the Blue Devils. Plus," he added with a brighter smile after a moment, "I have Haley. So I guess I'm doing alright."

Everyone smiled at his sentiment, but before another word was spoken, the doorbell rang.

And just as Brooke and Peyton had a half hour ago when Haley was at the door, everyone froze.

The atmosphere, which had been so warm and peaceful as Nathan had been telling his story, was suddenly filled with confusion. No one said anything, but the amount of communication in the room was tremendous. Haley looked to Nathan, her brow furrowed; he shrugged and shook his head at her, his eyes say clearly, "I have no idea." Although she was confused for a moment, when Peyton looked at Brooke, everything snapped into perfect clarity.

Brooke was grinning.

"I'll get it," the brunette said breathily, looking around at them. Her gaze lingered on Peyton for a moment longer, trying to tell her with her eyes, _That's gotta be him. _It was nearly five: it had to be gave her a little wink and jerked her head to the door. Brooke stepped around the bar and walked quickly across the room, sidestepped their couch, and darted into the well-lit hallway. Behind her, Nathan started talking again.

She heard only snatches of what he said. "I don't think..." She was barely listening. "…Not him."

She got to the entryway and strode across it, not allowing herself to think. Knowing already who was at the door, she threw it open and looked into his eyes.

"Hi," she said. He smiled.

* * *

"No, it's this _amazing_ class," Haley told a laughing Peyton, "The teacher is great, it's so inspiring, and there are some great people." She was trying so hard to make her point to the blonde, but couldn't help laughing as well. "And I've made some good friends in there." She looked at Nathan and exchanged a smile through her laughter.

"Hales, I can totally imagine you in a creative writing class like that. It is so up your alley," Peyton replied, still laughing. Haley had started describing some of her college classes to Peyton; she was taking everything from music to writing to English to math to physics, and she was aiming for a degree in education. The part that was so amusing to Peyton was that it was completely Haley's style to take the hardest classes possible. She was tutor girl, after all.

Before Haley could fire back a retort, Brooke paraded into the room again. To the untrained eye, it looked as though sunny confidence was shining through her eyes, but those who knew Brooke could see the difference. The nervous electricity in her smile, her eyes, her movements. Peyton and Haley decided to let it pass, though, because their friend looked so excited and happy as she addressed them.

"Well," the brunette said, seeing that she had their full attention. She stood by the hallway, across the room. "I invited someone to dinner tonight, so you can meet him." Peyton bit her lip in anticipation, smiling; the whole day had been full of surprises like this, and she had been looking forward to this big reveal since Brooke had told her about it. Then Brooke nodded into the hallway, and her guest walked out, all smiles with his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"Hi," he greeted them all, somewhat nervously. He seemed to lack the big confident attitude that Nathan had, but he did have a subtler self-assurance that was apparent in his sparkling eyes.

"We met at a party last week," Brooke explained, mostly for Haley and Nathan's benefit. She moved a little closer to her guest. "And we've been talking ever since and now I want you all to meet him. Everybody, this is Jake, Jake Jaglieski."

* * *

"Ok, so these are the people I was telling you about, Haley and Peyton." Brooke excitedly pulled Jake across the living room, stopping at the bar to point to her two friends. "And this is Haley's boyfriend, Nathan. Everybody, this is Jake," she repeated, trailing off and looking around the table for their reactions.

Jake smiled at each girl; he shook Nathan's hand. "So, thanks for letting me crash your party, even though you really don't know me yet," he told them, nodding and smiling. "It's nice to meet everyone." His hands were in his pockets again, and he looked almost uncomfortable from being suddenly thrust into the spotlight. Jake was definitely different than Nathan, but it was a nice difference.

Always the friendly one, Haley smiled warmly at him. "It's fine, Nathan only met Brooke and Peyton like a half hour ago," she said dismissively. She held up a random bottle from the bar. "Want a drink?"

Jake nodded, and just like that, he was a part of the group, no longer in the spotlight. It seemed that Peyton and Brooke's little dinner with an old friend had developed into somewhat of a party, and a good one at that. Jake told them a story about the town where he'd grown up, in Georgia, and a high school prank he'd pulled: he had them all laughing. Peyton, Brooke, and Haley told the guys about the time they were caught skinny dipping, and Jake, laughing, admitted, "Ok, your story wins."

The late afternoon wore on, the five of them having a great time. Everyone was completely comfortable and natural; they had gotten past the first hour of awkwardness, and now they were five friends just having fun. Even Jake fit in nicely. The focus of the conversation was mainly the three girls catching up on what had happened over the past few years, and the guys occasionally tossed in comments. They talked about Haley's life at Duke, and Nathan's; how Brooke was doing in her company, and how amazing it was that at just twenty years old she had an empire. Haley shared Brooke's outrage when they heard about Peyton's job, but luckily for the blonde she lacked the fire that Brooke had had when she first found out.

Once the clock on the wall ticked past five thirty, Brooke stood up. Interrupting the conversation, in which Haley was telling Peyton and Jake about a particular party she had gone to, Brooke said, "Ok, I'm going to go put on some of the food and throw something in the oven, and we'll eat in about…a half hour?" She wasn't used to it, but Brooke was playing the part of hostess quite well. The group nodded, but Haley raised one dubious, anxious eyebrow.

"No garlic bread, right?" she asked cautiously. Instantly, Brooke was on the defensive, but then her eyes connected with Peyton's twinkling ones and she bit her lip. "Oh god," Haley cried upon seeing Brooke's affirmative nod, "Brooke!"

"What?!"

Jake and Nathan looked on, confused again, as Peyton threw her head back and laughed and Haley sputtered at Brooke: "Haven't you learned anything from prior experience? You had to make _garlic bread?_ Tonight?" She was only half-joking, but still shook with laughter.

Brooke rolled her eyes, waving one hand dismissively. "Oh, calm down Haley," she said as she went into the kitchen, "I know it's supposed to be twenty minutes!"

Without missing a beat, Peyton yelled in her bored tone, "Fourteen!" She carelessly took a sip of her drink and made a face at Haley.

"That's what I said!" Brooke shouted back, and they decided not to argue with her. Nathan looked at Haley, searching for some kind of explanation for the whole scene. Jake raised one eyebrow at Peyton. The blonde shrugged and grinned at him.

"It's a long story," she laughed, and shook her head.

* * *

Brooke snorted. "I knew it was fourteen minutes," she assured herself. To be sure, however, she checked the box before bending over to slide the two loaves of bread into the oven. Then, just as she pushed the metal rack back into the oven and closed the stainless steel door, the brunette felt a presence behind her, someone else in the room. The laughter still echoed from the living room, but whoever was in the kitchen was quiet.

"H. James, I _swear_ to you that I can operate an oven," she said, without looking over her shoulder. Only when she heard a deep, quiet laugh did Brooke straighten up and turn around.

Jake leaned against the countertop on the opposite side of the kitchen, more confident and casual than he had been in the other room. "I'll bet you can," he smiled and winked at her, then pushed off the counter and took a few steps across the kitchen. "So I haven't really gotten to talk to you since I got here," he told her, almost as if inviting her to a conversation. Pushing his hands down into his pockets again, Jake took the last few steps across the kitchen and leaned on the counter next to where she was preparing her food.

Grabbing the box of spaghetti from a cabinet, Brooke turned and smiled at him. "Well, then, I guess we have time now. I love talking to you."

Jake and Brooke had known each other for over a week now, ever since a party last Thursday, the day before Rachel and Chase had hooked up. Then, on Sunday afternoon of that weekend, he had called her just to say hi—they had really hit it off at the party, and he wanted to see how she was—and Brooke had ended up talking to Jake for two hours in her room while Peyton had worked on her list of bands in the living room. The next day, they talked again when Brooke was on her way home from work. Same with the day after that. For the next several days, they talked on the phone, they text messaged each other, they got to know each other like good friends. Finally, on Friday, Brooke had taken a leap of faith and invited him to the dinner on Sunday. To her pleasant surprise, he had accepted.

As if reading her mind, Jake said, "Thanks for inviting me to this whole dinner. I'm glad I get to see you again."

The spaghetti lay forgotten on the counter, as Brooke faced him fully and looked up into his eyes. She smiled, just her little dimpled, sweet smile. For a moment, Jake and Brooke stood like that, smiling at each other with their faces less than a foot apart. _His eyes are the same color as mine,_ Brooke realized with the trace of a smile.

"And," he continued, "I get to meet your friends, and I really like them. You can judge a person's character by the kind of friends she chooses, did you know that?"

"Oh, really? And what do my friends say about me?" The rest of the kitchen didn't matter, the people in the other room were in another universe. Right now, only Brooke and Jake existed in that moment. Nothing else. It was just like one of their long conversations.

Jake leaned in infinitesimally closer. "They say you're a pretty great girl, Brooke Davis, pretty amazing."

She had taken her eyes from his yet; she already loved the brown and the touches of green. Now she looked deeper, and nodded as if confirming something to herself. "I really like you, Jake," she told him, like she was deciding it.

"Good," he whispered, "Because I like you too." And they stayed like that, in their hidden moment in the kitchen, in the quiet and calm, with everyone else a million miles away. "And—" he started. Suddenly, Peyton's shout of laughter came from the other room: the million miles shrank back to twenty feet, the moment broke, time sped up. Jake laughed. "And I'm glad I'm here, with you, and I'm glad I got to meet everyone because you're friends are really cool and I like them, and—" He obviously meant to continue his ramblings, but he was cut off: giggling, Brooke reached up and pressed her hand over his mouth. Jake fell silent, grinning embarrassedly.

She bit her tongue and smiled that little smile again. "I'm glad you're here," she whispered. Then in one fluid movement she pulled her hand away from his mouth and pressed her lips to his, a deep kiss that conveyed so much more than just what she had told him.

When Brooke pulled away, her head cocked to one side, she smiled. Jake's eyes remained closed, his lips frozen, an expression of complete peace on his face. "I really like you, Brooke." He opened his eyes and took her hand, laughing. He pulled her into a hug, wrapping his strong arms around her tightly, then grinning down at her.

"Then it should be you and me, together," she said, with the same grin and look of peace. "Brooke and Jake. Us."

"And it will be. We will be. I promise." Then Jake leaned down to kiss her, and she kissed back.

* * *

After they had finally broken apart, Brooke and Jake decided that there was plenty of time to be together later, but for the time being they actually had to do what Brooke had come into the kitchen for.

Jake, who was a surprisingly good cook, helped Brooke to prepare the rest of the food: they put on the spaghetti and the side dishes, then Jake helped her pull the garlic bread out of the over safely. Brooke made a mental note to tell Peyton and Haley that it came out perfectly. After all the preparations were finished, Brooke decided that the food would take a few minutes to cook and that she and Jake could go and back into the living room. He took her hand, and with the sweetest smile, escorted her back out of the kitchen.

Haley, Nathan, and Peyton were still relaxing in the living room, just as Jake and Brooke had left them; Nathan sat on a barstool, and Haley and Peyton relaxed together on one of the couches. The three were talking animatedly, but they all noticed Jake and Brooke's intertwined fingers, noticed how Jake put his arm around Brooke once the two sat down on another couch. Peyton grinned at Haley, whose brown eyes were twinkling.

The girls decided not to comment on it though, and simply tease Brooke later. Peyton instead cleared her throat to get everyone's attention and said, "So Nathan, how did you and Haley meet?" It was the magic question: at once, Brooke looked away from Jake and leaned in, as did Peyton, both eagerly awaiting the next piece of gossip about their friend. Haley seemed to have changed so much over the past two years, and Brooke and Peyton took great interest in all the stories and new quirks that Haley had.

Nathan smiled at Haley, then looked back at the group. "Actually, a mutual friend just introduced us at a party for the basketball team back in freshmen year. Exciting, I know," he laughed, "But we really hit it off that night." At Nathan's pause, Haley hopped up out of her seat next to Peyton and hurried across the room to Brooke and Jake's couch. Nathan continued with a smile, taking the opportunity to tease Haley a bit, "Granted, I don't think she liked me all that much when we first met, but now I know she can't get enough of me." He winked at her

Haley sat down next to Brooke, sticking her tongue out at Nathan. "Go ahead, keep teasing me," she said with a shrug. Everyone else laughed. "But you'll be sleeping in the hotel hallway tonight," she told her boyfriend, who held his hands up in surrender.

As Nathan launched into another story, this time about one of the first basketball games that Haley had come to, Haley leaned closer to Brooke's ear. "Ok," she said to her friend, "I'm really, so, so sorry for springing this on you so late, but I completely forgot because I was so excited to see you and Peyton again." Her voice was tense and apologetic, making Brooke furrow her brow. Before the brunette could say anything, however, Haley said, "I was going to tell you, but we invited someone else to dinner tonight. I know, I'm a horrible guest—" But whatever other apologies Haley was going to make were cut off by Brooke's loud scoff.

"Haley, don't worry about it!" she laughed. "This is fun, having all of these people here. It's a party." The openness in her voice settled Haley's nerves slightly; the worry in her face eased. "And besides," Brooke added with a shrug, "The more people that come, the less food there will be tomorrow for me to get fat off of! Ha! It's a win-win for me."

"Thank you," Haley sighed in relief, laughing a little. "I—"

"Haley," Peyton said, making Brooke and Haley look over, "Who was it who introduced you to Nathan? Did they go to Charlotte with us?" Just more evidence of Peyton's potent curiosity.

Just as Haley opened her mouth to answer, her cell phone buzzed from the pocket of her jeans. "Just a second," she apologized, "Sorry." Exchanging a quick look with Nathan, she pulled her phone out and checked the screen. She looked up at Nathan again and nodded, then turned her eyes to Peyton. "Actually, he's here right now, the guy that introduced us. I invited him to the dinner tonight, since Nathan was coming."

The first person to break the startled silence was Nathan. "He's here?" he asked, grinning. Suddenly, the doorbell rang through the house, almost like an answer to his question. Nathan stood up, looking around at the group and grinning. "Let's go," he told them, "I'll introduce everyone."

With mildly confused looks on their faces, Peyton, Brooke and Jake climbed to their feet. Peyton shot Brooke a questioning glance: she had no idea what was going on. _Who? _She mouthed, her brow furrowed. Brooke responded with a shrug of her shoulders before gesturing into the hallway. Startled and still looking a little confused, Peyton shrugged as well and set off for the entryway, followed by Nathan. Jake, Brooke, and Haley were last, with Jake on one side holding Brooke's hand and Haley on the other to talk.

"Thanks for letting me add some extra people to the mix," Haley said quietly as they made their way down the hallway to the entryway. "And I'm still sorry I forgot to tell you."

Brooke responded with a laugh. "Haley, I told you it's fine. This is going to be fun. We'll party." As if to prove her point, Jake playfully nudged Brooke, smiling down at her. She smiled back.

Ahead, they heard the door open and a flurry of voices and warm greetings echoed from the room. Haley laughed, all worry about how Brooke was going react gone. She looked eager to see her friend from Duke. "It should be fun," she said. "And I'm sure you would really like Nathan's brother." She took a few steps ahead of Brooke and Jake, reaching the end of the hallway.

"Yeah, I—" At the end of the hallway, before she stepped into the entryway where everyone was, Brooke froze, stopped in her tracks. "Wait—Nathan…Nathan _Scott _has a brother?"

Haley looked back, but by the time she opened her mouth to answer her friend's question Brooke had taken the last few steps into the room. Haley's answer, and even Brooke's question, was rendered pointless.

Lucas Scott, Brooke's rebound hookup from last week, the one that she had thought she would never see again, walked in the front door. That easy smile was on his face, his blonde hair stuck up in every direction. Then his sparkling blue eyes met Brooke's, and he stopped dead.

_Here it goes again. Their little dinner just got a _helluva _a lot more interesting._

_It starts out easy, something simple, something sleazy  
Something inching past the edge of the reserve  
Now through lines of the cheap venetian blinds  
Your car is pulling off of the curb, hey_

Oh, just when you think you're in control  
Just when you think you've got a hold  
Just when you get on a roll

Oh, here it goes  
Here it goes  
Here it goes again  
Oh, here it goes again  
I should have known  
Should have known  
Should have known again  
But here it goes again

_--Here It Goes Again__Well, there you go. Hope everyone enjoys! Haha. If you liked it, you know what to do._

* * *

_By the way, the next chapter of Don't Blink should be up in less than a week, so be looking for it!. :D_

_--Chandler_

* * *


	5. Break A Leg

_Two updates in a week, not too bad. DB and Himerus and Eros. Anyways, this chapter is dedicated to Corey because I figured she'd like it :P_

_Anyways, chapter title belongs to The Spill Canvas :D_  
_Read and review at the end! :P  
_

_--Chandler_

_

* * *

_

_In an instant, Brooke's world, her surroundings, everyone and everything, fell away; it was only her and Lucas in the room. Their eyes connected, clear blue and sparkling green-brown._

_Then they were in her bedroom, kissing intensely, falling onto her satin red sheets. Lucas broke away for a half second, only to pull his shirt off; she laid on her back, waiting impatiently for him to return to her. Once the shirt was gone, Lucas unconsciously centered himself directly above her, an arm on either side of Brooke's body, blocking her off as if to prevent her escape, even though she knew she wasn't going anywhere. He continued to kiss her, desperately and uncontrollably. She pushed upwards, passionately meeting his tongue with hers._

_There was still far too much clothing between them, Brooke decided, as Lucas tried to run one hand up her body but was frustrated by the rough fabric. How she longed for the feel of his skin; she realized in that moment how much she had missed it. She wanted that smooth feeling of his skin gliding over hers, leaving trails of fire and goosebumps, drenching them both in sweat. She wanted to taste him again, wanted to feel him and at that moment she would've given anything for it._

_It seemed, and she thanked some higher being for it, that Lucas needed the same things she did; he sat back for a moment to pull off her shirt and undo the button on her jeans so that she could slide them off while he attacked her lips again._

_Then it was a blur of skin and sweat and red satin sheets, red and fire and heat and friction and pressure. The touch of his lips over her body, the glow of their skin in the dim light of the bedside lamp, the warm glint of the light in Lucas's eyes, the sigh of the satin as it flowed over their bodies. She felt everything, and knew next to nothing. All she was sure of in that moment was how badly she wanted him—how badly she needed him; it was a primal urge, a craving, a desire._

_Then he was inside her. He sunk in deep, bringing them closer than either Brooke or Lucas could have imagined. It felt so damn good to be together again._

_They rocked as one, feeling the gatherings of climax growing in their stomachs, drawing ever closer to the edge, the need for release._

_With one final thrust into her, Brooke and Lucas climaxed together, colors blurring in front of their eyes, and in that moment Brooke only knew one thing; it fell from her lips, laced with desire and passion and love and lust._

"_Lucas…"

* * *

  
_

"Lucas!"

Somewhere from the deepest reaches of her brain, the last part of lucid thought Brooke had left screamed at her to come back to reality. The flashes of red and fire and skin and passion instantly shattered, giving way to the cold apartment entryway, and Haley, Nathan, Peyton, Jake, and…Lucas. God, he was really there. Lucas. Sharp blue eyes and scruffy blonde hair that stood up in all directions. For an instant, as soon as Brooke and Lucas had looked at each other when he'd first walked in, a ripple of astonishment had spread over his face. But seconds later, as Haley skipped joyfully over to him, Lucas's face regained a completely calm, easygoing smile. His gaze slid away from Brooke.

"Lucas!" Haley called again, happily, as she reached his side. Lucas, who was shaking hands with Nathan, grinned at her and pulled her into a hug.

"How are you, Hales?" he said into the top of her head.

Finally, Haley pulled away. "I'm fine. But we can talk about that later: come here, I have to introduce you." Without waiting for any response, she took Lucas's arm and pulled him over to where Brooke, Peyton, and Jake stood. Haley seemed to be in her element that night, as far as introductions go. Nathan came a few steps behind Haley and Lucas, smiling with amusement at his girlfriend and brother.

Brooke watched Lucas, silently, as he walked towards them. Lucas Scott. She couldn't stop saying his name, confirming it in her mind, as if suddenly she would realize it wasn't him. It was a nice try, but she remembered the blonde hair and blue eyes. The lean and muscled body. Her mind was a mess: questions and thoughts and ideas and feelings and several creative strings of swear words, all compressed into her mind and seconds from exploding. _Lucas Scott! He should have gone back to Miami by now. What— how does Haley know him? _Logic was completely out of the question. _That can't really be him. How much did I have to drink? How did he find out where I lived? Is he pissed? God, what am I going to do…Dammit. I am so screwed._

Jake stepped forward, interrupting Brooke's panicked stream of thoughts as she stopped to watch. He offered his hand to Lucas. "I'm Jake," he said, and Brooke smiled inside. Her new boyfriend was so great; he momentarily took her mind away from less pleasant things, like one-night stands showing up to your dinner.

Lucas shook Jake's hand. "Lucas." The blonde nodded carefully, as if trying not to give anything away.

"And this," Haley said once Jake and Lucas had finished their introductions, "Is Jake's girlfriend, and my best, best, best friend from high school, Brooke Davis."

There were very few times in Brooke's life where she had wanted to strangle someone, but that moment was one of them. If Haley only knew, if only she had any idea what was going on between them. Brooke looked up into Lucas's eyes as he drew nearer to her and shook her hand, waiting for him to make some offhand comment that would give away what happened last Friday night. No one could know about that night, and until that moment her story had been safe. Now everyone, including Jake and Peyton, would find out her secret. All because of the man standing in front of her.

The tension, the awkwardness between Brooke and Lucas was almost tangible. She tried not to look at him, and she could tell he was trying not to look at her, trying to stay calm. Brooke could have sworn she saw a vein pulsing in his neck as he came closer, still looking away. He looked at Haley, at Jake, at the painting on the wall. Anywhere but Brooke.

Finally, when he could avoid it no more, Lucas turned and his eyes met hers. She expected worry and angst, but strangely his eyes gave away nothing. In fact, they were blank save for a warm, gracious shine, the kind that everyone has when they are meeting new people. She looked at him, trying to communicate something, anything, but Lucas simply looked through her. Just like Jake had, he extended his hand. "Hey, I'm Lucas." There was that winning smile again. Gritting her teeth and twisting her face into something of a smile, Brooke reached out and shook his hand. Their skin touched.

…_she straddled his lap again, watching him with satisfaction for a moment as he lay beneath her. Then she pushed her hair back and fell upon his lips. Her naked back arched downwards seductively, her hair was mussed from both his hands and hers, and Brooke's hazel eyes were darkened with lust…_

Another flashback, another instant-long memory of skin and heat and sensations. Although this one, she was sure, was from Friday night, not a fantasy like what she had dropped into as soon as Lucas had walked in. It was a memory, and a vivid one at that. Brooke's mouth ran dry, looking at him, thinking of Friday night. What was she going to do? Lust pumped through her veins, her skin was on fire. Friday night had been amazing…

Then, suddenly, that crystal-clear lucid voice came again from deep in her mind. _No! _It shouted, _what are you doing? You're with Jake now. Jake, who you're holding hands with. Jake, who you kissed just fifteen minutes ago in the kitchen. It's you and Jake. Brooke and Jake. Lucas is not part of the picture._

He was still shaking her hand. "I've heard a lot about you. And Peyton, too," he was saying, shooting a quick smile at the blonde. Brooke's face had become plastic, a fixed stare to keep her from flinching at his touch. "Haley's told me most of the stuff that happened back in high school with you three." She simply nodded in response, not trusting herself to say anything.

The weight of the shock still hung around her shoulders, but even that began to fade into other emotions as Lucas quickly released her hand and looked away, stepping over to Peyton. In an effort to refocus herself on…whatever she had been thinking about before Luca walked in, Brooke looked over to Jake. He was smiling, laughing almost, at the introductions. Relaxed, at peace. His brown eyes shined. Having her hand still tightly entwined in his gave her a tremendous sense of comfort, of peace. It calmed her down.

"Hi, I'm Peyton," Peyton was saying, as she shook hands with Lucas. Brooke looked over at the pair, noting with displeasure the smug grin on Lucas's face. A new thought came to her: he probably knew what was going on, had come here with Haley to get back in Brooke's life, and now he was smirking at how shocked Brooke actually was. She felt the merest flick of irritation, and tried to brush it off.

_He didn't even acknowledge me,_ she thought to herself, _He avoided my eyes; he didn't even look at me!_ She sighed. Even though she had left him that morning, she would have liked some sort of acknowledgement. Maybe a fleeting glimpse communicating that he wasn't going to tell anyone about what had happened. But she got nothing.

There was the flick of irritation again, growing bigger by the second. Her skin grew hot, her breaths came shorter and faster, goosebumps rose on her bare arms. She could barely think with him in the room.

"Ok," Peyton announced. She was playing the part of hostess quite well. "Unless Haley has anymore surprises for us—" she threw a quick grin Haley's way "—we can go and eat. Sound good?"

There were murmurs of assent, and Peyton gestured to the dining rom. The dining room branched off the entryway, and connected through a doorway to the kitchen. Also, there was a double-wide doorway that connected it to the living room, for easy access to drinks. In the center of the room stood their glass and iron table, decked out with everything: plates, glasses, silverware, the works. Usually, if Peyton and Brooke ate dinner at home at all they would eat at the bar or in the kitchen, but tonight was a special occasion. They'd pulled out all the stops for this one.

"Brooke, do you want to grab the food?" asked Peyton as they got to the table. With a grateful nod, Brooke let go of Jake's hand and went through the doorway that lead to the kitchen.

* * *

She was thankful to have an escape; the kitchen, right now, was like her sanctuary. Space to breathe, room to think without having her eyes constantly attracted to Lucas, even though they shouldn't have been. She leaned on a counter with both hands, exhaling slowly. Ok. She had to think, had to concoct a battle plan.

Once, while flipping through the channels on a boring Sunday afternoon, Broke had seen some young female athlete doing an interview. Usually, she wouldn't have stopped, but Brooke heard the phrase, "Fake it till you make it. The words had always stuck with her. You have to pretend that you're ok, not matter what, and eventually you will be. _God, is that true now, _Brooke said to herself, _I'm fine. Lucas is no big deal._ Really, he seemed a bit too smug anyway, too comfortable with seeing her. He knew already, she was sure, that it was Brooke that lived in this apartment, that it was she that Haley was coming to visit. He was just here to rub it in her face, to get back into her life.

_And you know what? I don't care. I'm fine._ Lucas really would be no problem to her, just as long as he kept his mouth shut about Friday night. Then the dinner would be over, and even if he stays with Nathan and Haley for the next week Brooke would only see him once or twice more. _No problem._

Mentally, she thanked the female athlete who had given her those words of advice.

Brooke became significantly brighter in the moments after her mental coaching. "P. Sawyer," she called joyfully, "Come help me with all of this." After a moment, she heard Peyton's long-legged strides, then the blonde came bounding into the room with her blonde curls bobbing playfully.

"Gotcha, B. Davis," she said, coming over as Brooke carefully lifted a bowl. The brunette didn't want to spill anything on her yellow empire shirt that for once wasn't designed by Clothes over Bros. But before Brooke went anywhere, Peyton stopped and leaned against the counter, clearly intending to talk.

"Ok," she said slyly, "I am _so_ feeling those Scott boys." Brooke immediately set the bowl back down and leaned against the counter as well. So what if they weren't being the best of hostesses? Haley, Jake, Nathan and Lucas could wait for Brooke and Peyton to finish their moment-long gossip session.

"_I know_," Brooke gushed, grinning, "Haley got so lucky with Nathan. If I were any more jealous, I'd be Rachel right now, digging my claws into him."

Instead of replying, Peyton just shook her head. They could talk about Rachel later, but at the moment there were more important things going on. "What about the blonde one, Lucas? He's just as good-looking, if not better than Nathan." She winked.

It obviously didn't have the intended effect on Brooke: instead of gushing about Lucas like she had with Nathan, the brunette merely shrugged indifferently. "I don't know, he's ok. I think he seems way too smug and charismatic for me. You know?"

"I thought that was the kind you liked," Peyton snorted, teasing. Before Brooke could respond, Peyton continued, "But whatever. Let's grab the food, and go eat!" They grabbed two dishes each, and carried it back through the doorway to the rest of the group.

* * *

The other four had already taken seats around the dinner table, and by the time Broke had gotten in Peyton was sitting down as well in the fifth of their six seats. With a sudden feeling of apprehension, Brooke looked around. Yep, that was it. The last empty seat was at the head of the table. Jake was on the left of that spot, and on the right, across the table from him…was Lucas.

For what must have been the millionth time that evening, Brooke thought to herself, _What the hell did I do in a past life to deserve this?_ But by now, it had almost gotten amusing. First, Lucas turns up at her apartment to have dinner with her. Then, he acts like he doesn't recognize her, despite the fact that they'd had a pretty good night. Then, he ended up sitting next to her at their dinner.

She was almost laughing, in a hysterical sort of way. But then Brooke remembered the conversation she'd had with herself in the kitchen, and faked a smile.

"Hey, Davis," Peyton called, raising an eyebrow, "Are you going to sit down?" Brooke had been standing in the doorway for almost a minute.

No, not yet. She needed just that extra sliver of time. "Actually, the wine is at the bar, so I'm going to go grab it. I'll be back in a second." Before anyone around the table could object, Brooke turned on her heel and darted out of the room.

The bar was across the room, facing the doorway to the dining room. From their angle, none of the people could see Brooke or the bar, and for that she was thankful. Pausing, like she had in the kitchen, Brooke took a deep breath while leaning against the counter. "Ok," she said presently, after calming herself down once more, "where did I put the wine?"

After a few minutes, she'd pulled six wine glasses from their little built in cabinet, and the two bottles of wine from the cooler and laid everything out on the bar. Just as she was trying to figure out how to carry everything, a small rustle of clothing behind her made her jump. She whirled, shocked, to find Lucas standing there; his hands were in his pockets, he was leaning back a fraction of an inch, watching Brooke with a very satisfied sort of smile on his face.

She broke out in angry goosbumps when she took in his full appearance, yet for some reason a little voice in the back of her head, definitely not the voice of reason from earlier, whispered, _Sexy as hell_. Brooke muted that voice as quickly as possible.

"Hey," Lucas said, his gravelly voice reminding her of when she had found him preparing breakfast for her early that Saturday morning, wearing only those basketball shorts so that his tan, muscled torso was left bare.

But today she couldn't be distracted by such a romantic, hot memory. "What are you doing here?" she asked icily. Now was her chance to talk to him about everything in private, and she wasn't going to let him think that she was happy about it.

Lucas looked back over his shoulder, towards the room. "You're friend Peyton said you'd probably need some help with the wine, so here I am." His voice was almost unbearably relaxed.

"No," she said with the same icy tone. "I mean, why are you _here_? In my house? At my dinner, with my friends?" Brooke gestured through the air, around the room, at the walls, the ceiling. "Here?"

He wasn't moved by her tone of voice or obvious anger. Simply, Lucas said, "Haley invited me to a dinner at a friend's house. I had no idea you were even in the picture." The coolness of his answers, his relaxed state, the smile that played at the corners of his lips got under her skin. He was like a guy who knew he was hot, so he played it up and expected others to recognize it too. And, she knew, Lucas thought this whole situation was especially amusing, particularly the fact that Brooke found it so…unamusing. The heat inside her grew, the irritation.

"Well, I _am_ in the picture," she snapped back, "so I'd appreciate it if you just go back to the dinner table. I'll make two trips for the wine." Brooke tried to make every word drip with a considerable amount of venom behind it, enough to let him know that this wasn't a joke; it wasn't something to be acting so damn smug about. Then, as an afterthought, she added with a scathing look up and down his body, "I don't need you."

It was like she'd slapped him. Lucas angled his head away, looking away off to one side, biting his tongue. He breathed deeply and let out a long sigh. With a surprising surge of satisfaction, Brooke watched his jaw grinding. For a moment, she'd gotten to him. Then Lucas looked back up at her, his eye gleaming as he dropped his voice to a low, smug whisper.

"That's not what you were shouting Friday night."

Those were fighting words, in Brooke's eyes at least. She pulled her head back, one eyebrow scornfully raised, her jaw jutting forward as she tried to control the sudden wave of fury that had washed over her. Her fingers, which she had been impatiently drumming on the granite countertop of the bar as she waited for Lucas to leave, stopped, curling into a half fist and out again. The wine was momentarily forgotten in their quiet one-upping competition. While she looked away, Lucas took a few slow, careful steps toward her, hands in his pockets.

Then her head whipped back around to face him, fire coming from her eyes."Friday night didn't even matter," she said, smiling a poisoned honey smile, "I'd pushed it out of my mind by Saturday afternoon. And besides—" she looked him derisively up and down again "—It wasn't like it was that great anyways." And with that one final comment, Brooke grabbed the wine and made to walk by him into the dining room, intending to leave him standing stunned in the middle of her living room.

But just as she reached him, Lucas shot out a hand to catch her arm. He pulled her in gently, but with a grim determination, towards his body. Brooke halfheartedly pulled away: she almost wanted to find out what the hell was going on. Lucas leaned closer to her ear until his nose was almost in her hair, and dropped his voice into that arrogant hiss again.

"Don't lie, Pretty girl. It's…unbecoming."

Then he released her arm and, just as quickly and as silently as he had walked in, left the room, left her standing there in the middle of her living room, stunned and incredibly pissed off. Her hands shook, heat boiled through her veins. She decided right then and there.

_Lucas Scott is an ass.

* * *

  
_

Like she had said, Brooke took two trips to get the six glasses and two bottles of red wine. She used the extra time in the living room to simmer down, calming down by convincing herself that Lucas had just acted like he cared last weekend so he could get a quick lay. She kept replaying the line in her head: "Don't lie, Pretty Girl, It's…unbecoming." He had said that to her Friday night too, and was no doubt using it again to remind her what had happened, to throw it back in her face. As if she could forget.

Eventually, she ran out of reasons to stay away from the table, and sat down in her chair as the wine glasses were passed around. Even though Lucas was on her left, one positive thing was that Jake was on her right and she could focus entirely on him when no one was talking.

_The night is fine. Everything will be fine. Just make it through two more hours or so…_

After everyone had toasted and clinked glasses together, they settled in to eat. Surprisingly, Haley and even Peyton, the queen of sarcastic remarks, didn't tease Brooke about the food quality, although there was much laughing and talking. Brooke, from one end of the table, stayed pretty quiet, as did Lucas unless either was addressed directly.

"So Lucas," Jake asked across the table. Sitting next to Lucas was Haley. Nathan was next to her, at the head of the table, and next to him and across from Haley was Peyton. Jake was on her left. The rest of the group quieted to hear Jake's question. "How do you know Haley? Just through Nathan?"

Even Brooke stopped eating and looked up, suddenly interested. For a sliver of an instant, she thought she saw Lucas's eyes flick towards her, but then he covered it up by glancing around the table. "Actually, we met in a creative writing class and became really good friends," he told Jake, "I was the one who introduced her to Nathan at a party back in freshmen year."

"He was the mutual friend Haley was talking about," Nathan added, for explanation.

Everyone around the table nodded, smiling at this new piece of information about Lucas. Then Peyton spoke up. "So are you as crazy about English and writing as Haley is?" she asked cheerfully.

"Yeah, I'm majoring in literature at Duke," Lucas responded with a small nod. He watched her stonily, yet managed to smile at the blonde.

"And he loves writing," added Haley. "You guys should see some of the stuff he did for our creative writing class, it was amazing. Poems, stories, everything."

Instead of smiling at Haley's comment like everyone else, Brooke snorted into her spaghetti in a sad attempt to hold back laughter. After a moment of silence, she took a breath and looked up, only to find everyone staring at her. Even Lucas, although his gaze was more anxious. "Sorry," Brooke apologized quickly, "I…there was something stuck in my throat." She nodded vigorously. Everyone shrugged, accepting the fact; Peyton rolled her eyes. Brooke's eyes, meanwhile, had slid to Lucas again. He was staring straight head, stiffly, trying not to look at her. _Sports writer my ass,_ she thought to herself. She decided to put him on the spot and make Lucas squirm under her scrutiny.

"So what kind of writing do you do, Lucas? You look like an athlete, are you a sports writer at all?" Now, would Lucas tell her what he had told her Friday night, lie in front of his friends, or admit to her that he was just a creative writing student, writing sappy poetry? Either way would be entertaining, and she had to suppress another smile.

Lucas turned stiffly towards her, obviously controlling his movements to the best of his ability. Brooke just sat there, waiting, smiling sweetly. "No," he told her through gritted teeth, "I-it's more fiction."

Haley piped in again. "He wants to be a novelist," she told everyone. Lucas's eyes remained fixed to Brooke's.

"Hmm," the brunette said, staring him down yet keeping that fixed smile on her face. She hoped none of the other's picked up on the tense, sexually charged atmosphere. "That's very interesting, Lucas," she told him with a little cock of her head.

Lucas bit the inside of his cheek, not looking away from her eyes. _This dinner is so great, _Brooke thought to herself with a smirk.

* * *

After dinner, the group retired once again to the bar and the TV area. Through the dinner, the six of them had grown more relaxed with each other, and the atmosphere had become calm, fun, laid-back. Conversation had turned from questions about each other to everyone taking turns telling outrageous stories: Haley and Nathan's stories from college, Brooke and Peyton about adventures in high school and New York, and Jake's experiences from growing up in Savannah. Lucas offered input as far as Nathan and Haley went, but didn't say much else as he nursed his drink and leaned on his elbows at the bar.

At a little past seven, Peyton suddenly hopped off her bar seat and strode over to the coffee table, grabbing a remote. "Apparently there's a game on tonight," she said, concentrating as she flipped through the channels, a drink in one hand and the remote in her other. Peyton looked at Nathan and Lucas. "Do you guys want to watch it?"

Nathan looked at Lucas. "I think its Boston and San Antonio playing tonight, at Boston." The rest of the group fell silent and watched the exchange.

"Oh yeah," said Lucas, nodding vaguely, like he was recalling some memory. "Yeah, I think you're right."

Peyton, finding the channel, threw the remote on the couch and walked back to the bar, rolling her eyes at Lucas. "Don't act like you didn't know," she teased him, grinning, "you guys probably had it all planned and are recording it at home." She pulled herself back into the bar seat. Lucas smiled at her, and only her. "It's ok," he said, "we can fist here and talk to you guys."

"Well, I'm going to watch it and leave it on, so you might as well just watch it too."

"You watch basketball?" Nathan asked, perking up with surprise.

Peyton smirked and shook her head. "Hell no," she said, making everyone laugh, "But I'm going to watch the game tonight, for the benefit of you and Lucas. Good?"

"Thank you," Lucas said, teasing and grinning at her. The two guys went and sat on the couch, already getting into a conversation about which teams stats were which as the two basketball teams tipped off. Just as Haley, Peyton, and Brooke turned to talk to each other, Jake, who had been in the bathroom, came up behind Brooke.

"Hey," he said. Brooke surprised him by turning and giving him a little peck on the cheek. Who cared if they had only known each other a week, only gotten together a few hours prior? She liked him, and Brooke planned on showing it. They didn't need to take their relationship slow.

"Hi," she responded coolly. "You can go watch the game if you want to." She gestured towards Nathan and Lucas, who were already thoroughly engrossed in the game. Jake smiled.

"It's ok; I can sit here and talk with you girls." He sounded like a more endearing form of Lucas: not so much flirting as being sweet. Jake looked around at Haley and Peyton, almost as if he were asking for their permission. The two smiled in response, but Brooke, his girlfriend, raised a dubious eyebrow.

She shrugged. "That's fine, but we're going to talk about all of our girly stuff." She smirked, and Peyton and Haley giggled as if on cue. "But if you want to hang out with us instead of watching a manly basketball game, you go right ahead."

Of course, Jake knew she was only kidding, but he winked at her and went to the couch anyways, joining the Scott brothers. The girls watched him for a second, as Nathan almost immediately struck up a conversation with Jake. "You follow any of these teams, Jake?" he asked. Jake replied but by that time Brooke, Peyton and Haley had all turned back to each other and were talking animatedly in their girlish way, as promised. Brooke had started telling an excited Haley about her company.

"…And we've got a photo shoot wing," she was saying, "With all these studios and backdrops and a little area for the models to hang out. And then on the other side of the building are the different offices, handling marketing, distribution, buyers, the magazine—"

Haley gasped, like any good audience member should. "You have a magazine? I didn't hear about this," she said excitedly. She had been following Brooke's company online ever since she had received news of it becoming more famous, so she knew most of what Brooke was telling her. Still, though, it was fun to hang out and act like you were in high school again, without a care in the world. "A magazine?" she repeated.

"Yep," Brook said, sitting back with a satisfied grin, "It just started; the first edition comes out soon. It's called 'B. Davis.'"

"Why am I not surprised?" Haley laughed, but she smiled at Brooke to let her friend know that she was impressed.

"I know!" squealed Brooke. Peyton, who had been watching the conversation rather than talking much because she had heard most of this already, laughed at Brooke's usual excitement. "And tomorrow," the brunette continued, "I'm taking you on a tour of the whole place, tutor girl, VIP!"

"Brooke, that's amazing, thank you!" Haley smiled, thoroughly excited. It was a big deal, getting an inside look at your best friend's fashion empire, especially two years out of high school.

Obviously proud to be talking about her company, Brooke jumped in her seat with excitement. She didn't have any real family, so sharing her world with someone as close as Haley was special to her and a nice change of pace from the usual breakneck pace of New York business life. No doubt they'd be acting like high schoolers again, goofing around in the halls of Clothes over Bros. She was already looking forward to it. After a few seconds in which no one spoke, Brooke's eyes slid over to Peyton. "You know," she told Haley, "we could be taking Peyton too, if she would quit that horrible job."

Peyton glared, only half-teasingly. "Again with this, Brooke?" she sighed, "I'm not quitting my job."

Before Brooke could respond, the TV erupted with roaring fans and the three guys on the couch leapt to their feet, throwing their hands in the air. The sudden noise made the girls jump almost out of their seats as well, and they looked over in shock._ "What an amazing shot!"_ the announcer on the television shouted, amid the cheers and high-fives that Nathan, Lucas and Jake exchanged.

Everything settled again after a few moments, and the sounds of the game and their conversations continued, as they had before. But for a while after that, Haley, Brooke, and Peyton silently watched the guys on the couch for a few minutes.

Then, Brooke looked back her girlfriends. "So, Hales," she said, "you gotta tell us more about Nathan." Her voice, despite the seemingly normal question, had that suggestive, flirty tone that she was so known for. It had been her default tone back in high school when there was drama around every corner. Peyton couldn't help but grin when she heard it, and decided to play along.

"Yeah, Haley James," she teased, "You and Nathan have been together a while, you got any details for us?"

Brooke and Peyton leaned back in their chairs, Peyton biting her tongue and Brooke arching one eyebrow. Both were grinning, tremendously pleased with themselves when Haley had to bite her lip and look away out of embarrassment; she always had been the chaste, sweet, innocent girl back in high school, so the entire idea of her having a boyfriend for two and a half years was interesting and alien to her friends. Plus, it was major teasing fodder, something they enjoyed most.

Haley stuck her tongue in her cheek. "There aren't any details to tell. "It's been amazing, having someone like Nathan there to support me no matter what. We've had rough patches, but I love him. That's pretty much all there is to it." They kept their voices low, even though the guys were so wrapped up in the game they wouldn't have heard anyway.

"If that's all you want to tell us," Brooke shrugged, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Now this was what they had expected the night to be: teasing, fun, stories, three best friends catching up on what had happened over the past few years, and they were glad they got the time to do it.

But Brooke should have known that there was no way in hell that Haley would take any of their teasing and not throw it back. "Whatever, Brooke Davis," she said, rolling her eyes, "What about _Jake?_ Judging by Peyton's surprise when he showed up, you've never brought him home." So there it was. For some reason, Brooke had known when she first introduced Jake to her friends that they'd razz her about it. "He's not exactly bad-looking either, and you guys are all over each other."

Brooke was thankful that Peyton had distracted the guys with the basketball game. "Hey!" she snapped, grinning, "Jake and I have only known each other a week. We haven't gotten nearly as far as you and Nathan have."

"Hah!" Peyton nearly shouted in laughter before Haley could retort. " Please, Brooke. At the speed you move by the end of next week you'll be at the point where Nathan and Haley are. Physically, at least."

"Ok, that's enough!" Brooke shouted, crossing her arms over her chest and having a difficult time trying to control her laughter. Luckily, at that moment one of the basketball players made another great shot and the volume went up, drowning out whatever creative swear words Brooke yelled at Peyton. Once everyone calmed down again, Brooke told Peyton, "That was a low blow. If you don't shut up, P. Sawyer, you'll be sleeping in the hallway, got it? And besides," she added, with a satisfied smile, "At least I have a boyfriend. So the single girl should shut her trap, mmkay?" She shot Peyton a bright grin, cocking her head in a sort of challenge. Haley, used to those sort of exchanges, sat back to watch.

But Peyton let it drop instead of firing anything back at Brooke, conceding with a roll of her eyes. Then the girls fell silent, turning to watch Nathan, Lucas, and Jake, who were having a great time talking and discussing basketball stats. After a few more minutes of quiet peace, Peyton turned back to Brooke and Haley her blonde curls bobbing on her head and her green eyes sparkling. "But what about Lucas," she asked coyly. "He seems like my type of guy, plus he's pretty damn hot." When neither girl replied, Peyton continued, "You know? He's got that sort of deep, thoughtful…" The blonde trailer off, looking for the right word.

"Broody," Brooke suddenly spoke up, her voice blank. Friday night kept coming back to her in the worst ways, just when she got a hold on things. Unconsciously, her eyes slid to the couch. He was Broody, and she had been dubbed Cheery. _Yeah,_ she said to herself, watching him laugh, _that's turning out to be real true._

Peyton brightened. "Yeah, that's what it is. He's broody. I would definitely go for him."

"Ugh, I've known Lucas for the past two and a half, almost three years: we sat next to each other on the first day of that class in freshmen year." Haley raised an eyebrow. "He's almost like a brother, Peyton. That is weird." They all erupted in another fit of giggles and eye rolling and more razzing and teasing.

* * *

The three best friends continued on like that for another almost half hour, just having the girly fun that they hadn't over the past few years: they were making up for lost time. Occasionally, silence would settle in between them and they would spend the time watching the guys and the basketball game. Whenever this would happen, Brooke would fix her eyes on Jake, and sometimes Nathan, anything to keep herself calm and her thoughts away from Lucas. Most of the time, it worked, and luckily by the time her thoughts had drifted back to the blonde and memories had clouded her mind, either Peyton or Haley would start up a new conversation.

At that moment, she was focusing on Lucas, once again lost in memories that sent shivers down her spine.

"_I don't want to go home, Luke."_

"_What do you want, then?" His question wasn't sharp or irritated. It was more… genuine and caring._

_She took a deep breath, and captured his lips again as an answer._

"_I have a hotel room," he murmured into her ear. Brooke nodded._

_Then the world was a blur as Lucas led her through the lobby. She dimly registered him nodding to the desk clerk, then they were alone in the elevator, and her lips somehow found his. Her mostly bare back was pressed up against mirror on the wall, the cold metal hitting her hot, flushed skin and making her gasp. Brooke's hands roamed freely, and she and Lucas both prayed that no one would enter the elevator. His hands came up to either side of her neck and cheeks possessively; the move turned Brooke on even more._

When Haley spoke, pulling Brooke from the dregs of her thoughts, it was with a more serious, quieter voice. She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees. "So, are you guys going to tell me where Rachel is? I've been afraid to ask all night." Haley's brown eyes looked back and forth from Peyton to Brooke, searching for answers. Peyton shot Brooke a tense look, but Brooke merely exchanged a glance with the blonde. Neither said anything, so Haley sighed. "And apparently it was for good reason. What's up, where is she?"

For a moment, no one responded: Brooke looked away, her face a combination of pain and fury. Peyton spoke up instead, her voice low and reluctant. She didn't want to tell the story. Brooke had rehashed it enough; she didn't need to hear it again. "Well…last weekend, the three of us, —Brooke, Rachel, and I—were at a party. Brooke's boyfriend came too."

"Jake?" asked Haley. Peyton shook her head, glancing quickly at Brooke. The brunette was still looking away. She'd rather Peyton told the story.

"Brooke was up in the lounge, relaxing and taking a break. Then, she looked out the window, and saw her boyfriend Chase hooking up with someone."

A shadow of realization flitted behind Haley's eyes as she began to piece everything together. "Oh no…" she said slowly.

Then Brooke whipped her head around, fury lighting up her face as she remembered the night. "It was Rachel. Rachel hooked up with my boyfriend last Friday night. I kicked her out Saturday morning, and I've only spoken to her once." She said everything with a curt, businesslike tone, as if nothing mattered and Rachel destroying their friendship was simply something that had happened in the news.

It was by far the most serious conversation they'd had all night. It forced a somber mood over everyone. "Damn," Haley said, shaking her head. Brooke looked away again, off towards the kitchen. She couldn't even bear to look at the couch.

"Yup," Peyton confirmed to Haley, "It's a mess."

"Was a mess," Brooke corrected, still facing away from them. "Because now she's gone, and I have Jake. Problem solved." With that happy thought, she looked over to her new boyfriend, content and pleased with herself for getting over what had happened.

Behind Brooke's head, Peyton leaned over to Haley. "Yeah," the blonde whispered, "because the bone _always_ breaks that cleanly. Just stick around for the next week: with girls like Rachel and Brooke?" She snorted. "Spark will fly."

"Just watch the fireworks, right?" Haley murmured her eyes on Brooke. Peyton smiled; Haley was quoting one of their favorite songs. It was also the same line that the two friends had used whenever there had been drama involving Brooke or Rachel back in high school. Peyton and Haley were the laid-back ones, rolling with the punches. Brooke and Rachel, meanwhile, had always been the ones to punch back.

Haley had coined the term back at the beginning of their senior year when Nicole Wellence's boyfriend had hit on Rachel. One day after school, Nicole stormed into the gym during cheer practice and ended up taking a swing at Rachel, looking for a fight. Usually, that sort of thing would have worked and Nicole would have escaped with maybe a sore jaw or nose, but she tried to fight Rachel in front of Brooke. Brooke, obviously, had stepped up for the redhead and ended up giving Nicole Wellence a black eye. For weeks afterward, whenever Nicole's group of friends passed any of the cheerleaders—be it Haley, Peyton, Brooke, Rachel or anyone else—Haley would lean over to Peyton and whisper "Just watch the fireworks." Since then, whenever drama kicked up again one of them would always quote that. Hearing about Brooke and Rachel's fight seemed a more than perfect time.

* * *

Nine-thirty found everyone lounging on the couches once again, their rivers of conversations dwindling to occasional comments. Brooke curled in Jake's arms on one couch while Peyton browsed through a magazine on Brooke's other side. Nathan and Haley were on another couch, and Lucas reclined in an armchair. The basketball game had finished at around nine: much to Lucas and Nathan's satisfaction and Jake's frustration, the Celtics had won one-hundred eighteen to one-hundred thirteen.

Just when it seemed they had exhausted all threads of conversation for the night and the party was drawing to an end, Haley angled her head up and whispered something in Nathan's ear. A smile spread across his face, and when she pulled away from him he nodded at her. No one else would have paid any attention to it, except that Nathan suddenly adjusted himself, sitting more forward on the chair, and cleared his throat. Brooke, Peyton, Lucas and Jake looked up at the same time, Haley smiled a secret grin, and Nathan looked around the room before addressing Brooke and Peyton.

"I just want to thank you two for inviting Haley and me, and for cooking a great dinner," he began.

Then Haley quickly coughed, "That, ahem, didn't result in smoke alarms going off or coeds coming to the rescue." Brooke stuck her tongue out at her; Jake pulled his girlfriend a little tighter to settle her down.

Nathan smiled, and then continued, "And one of the reasons Haley said she brought me up here was so that she could introduce everyone. But actually, it's much, much more than that." He paused, taking his girlfriends hand. Suddenly the sleepy haze that had enveloped them before lifted: Peyton perked up, raising one eyebrow suspiciously, Lucas looked away from Brooke to his half-brother and best friend, and Brooke sat straight up, out of Jake's arms. _Wait a second, _she said to herself, _something's going on here…_

"Haley and I are engaged."

Later, they'd look back and realize it was a miracle that security didn't get called that night because some other tenant thought that someone was being attacked in their apartment and was yelling for their lives: Brooke and Peyton's ensuing matching screams were enough to shatter all of the building's windows. They leapt from the couch as if it were on fire, tackling Haley in hugs as they had that afternoon when she first walked in.

"HALEY JAMES!" Brooke screamed. Haley had half-risen from the couch and was struggling to stand up under Brooke and Peyton's combined weight. Behind the girls, Jake was clapping, standing up, and Lucas was shaking hands with Nathan, telling him congratulations. Though the guys were less expressive than the three best friends, they were without a doubt just as happy: a marriage, especially in such a group of friends, was a special and amazing thing.

The girls were still in a tangle of limbs. "Haley, why didn't you tell us about this earlier?" Brooke laughed into Haley's brown hair, but the question was most likely forgotten in the chaos.

"Oh my God," was all Peyton could repeat through her shock.

But Nathan's deep voice rose above the din and made everyone stop and listen. "I asked her last week," he told them, with the biggest smile possible, "And she said yes. We'll be taking the summer for our wedding and honeymoon."

Brooke, finally releasing the half-nelson of a hug that she'd had on Haley, took a few deep breaths and looked around the room. Nathan was beaming, Haley and Peyton were laughing together, and Jake was shaking hands with Nathan in congratulations. Then her gaze turned towards Lucas: Light was shining out of his blue eyes, his face a mask of complete happiness, tinted with wide-eyed shock. Obviously, he hadn't heard about the engagement either, but he was definitely happy for his brother and best friend.

It took a few minutes, but Haley and Nathan eventually got everyone to sit back down again. The air still crackled with newfound electricity, though, and Brooke and Peyton sat straight up in their seats with excitement. "How great is this?" Brooke kept muttering to her friend. Peyton couldn't stop grinning.

"I guess you won't be at the same point in a week with Jake that Nathan and Haley are at now," Peyton teased. But then Haley took a breath and the two friends instantly shut up.

"It's one of the reasons Nate and I came up here," she laughed, ecstatic to be sharing this news with the people closest to her. Quickly, Haley pulled a ring out of her purse and pulled it on, grinning again at Brooke's little squeal of excitement. She continued, "We thought that it would be better if we told you two in person, and obviously we were right. Plus, I wanted you to meet my future husband, and I wanted to see you again."

Brooke didn't trust herself to say anything, she was so thrilled. Weddings had to be her favorite celebration in the world: the decorations, the music, the vows, the romance…everything perfect about life rolled into one amazing day. Back home in Charlotte, there was a road that led to the beach that most everyone traveled all summer. Along that road there was an old chapel, painted a pure white with a black shingled roof and a tall spire. It was set on several acres of emerald green lawn and flower gardens and groves of old flowering trees, and in the early summer the whole place was ablaze with pinks and reds and whites and greens and blues and yellows, flowers of all types. Often, whenever Brooke would drive down that road, be it alone or with friends, she would slow down and admire the serene beauty of the place, and if she was lucky she'd sometimes catch a glimpse of an outdoor wedding. It had always been her dream to be married there, in early summer when everything was bright and vibrant, then ride off into the sunset with the man that she loved.

_Who said poetry was dead?_ Brooke thought to herself with a secret smile. Yet she couldn't help but admire the beautiful old chapel estate in her mind once again.

Then Haley continued in her announcement, drawing Brooke out of her memories. "We decided that we would have the ceremony and reception up here in New York, near the middle of June. Nathan and I have everything worked out so that we can spend time up here and fly back to finish the term and take our finals before the year ends at Duke, then come back up for the wedding."

Peyton laughed. "Of course, H. James works in her _wedding_ around her busy schedule, because she can't miss any classes!"

Everyone echoed her laughter. Haley allowed the teasing go on for a moment before she continued, "We talked to our professors, and they cut us a break because Nathan and I were both ahead and they were happy that we're getting married."

After a pause in which everyone nodded, Nathan chimed in with a somewhat more serious tone. The happiness could still be heard in his voice, but there was also a sincere touch to it. "And there's another reason that Haley didn't tell you why we wanted to come up here," he said, and then looked at his brother. "It's one of the reasons we brought you to dinner with us, Luke." Lucas met his eyes, curiously, and Nathan took a deep breath. "We would like you to be my best man at the wedding."

Lucas's answer was almost instantaneous. "Yeah, hell yeah. I'd love to, Nate." He pounded fists with his brother, beaming like Nathan was. Everyone smiled at the sentiment.

Then Haley suddenly turned to Brooke, taking her by surprise. Brooke smiled, disbelieving… "And Brooke?" Haley asked, "Will you be my maid of honor and help with all the wedding planning?"

Brooke came dangerously close to leaping out of her seat again to tackle Haley. Instead, showing some modicum of self-control, her eyes opened wide and she screamed again. "Of course, Haley!" she cried. _God, weddings are beautiful_. She was the maid of honor! She was planning the wedding. Instantly, she began running through everything that she could do, the places the reception could be, whether or not she could design the wedding dress…The wedding dress! The thoughts almost overpowered her as she accepted Haley's hug.

Nathan sat back with a satisfied laugh and a breathless, awe-filled smile. "It's settled then—we're having a wedding!"

With that final announcement, the party descended into a blissful state of laughter and congratulations and almost blinding smiles. Peyton managed to unearth a bottle of champagne, and they toasted for the next several minutes. Clinking glasses and foaming champagne filled the room. Jake must have kissed Brooke ten times, in a complete state of delight and exhilaration, and she gladly kissed him back. Nathan and Haley were the center of it all, though: Nathan had his arms around her on the couch, holding her close, his blue eyes sparkling and the grin on his face that of a man who had never been happier. Haley seemed still in a state of shock, alternating laughing and crying with happiness.

Then, through all the celebration, Brooke looked at Lucas. Her eyes ran over his smooth body, his messy blonde hair, the scruffy traces of stubble. The suave, conceited look on his face that screamed he was only out to get the next piece of tail. _What an ass, _she thought to herself, avoiding his icy blue eyes.

But it was in that same moment that she realized something—she was the maid of honor, and he was the best man: they were both in charge of the wedding. For the next two months, they would work together almost everyday, deciding everything from the location of the ceremony to the centerpieces for the tables of the reception. He wasn't going away; Lucas wasn't walking out of her life in a week. The cold realization splashed over her like freezing water, shocking her limbs.

Brooke Davis suddenly hated weddings.

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_So anyways, if you liked it, you now what to do. Reviews make me happy :)_

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